


Julie, Julie, Julie!

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 12:17:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14934126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Julie Richards is a ditz.  Just ask anyone and they'd tell you.  Garrison and the team would groan when they'd see her coming, just knowing trouble was coming.  And Meghada, the Dragon, and her sisters?  Julie seemed to be able to push every button they had, and the results could be, well, unexpected and sometimes jaw-dropping.  Except, now, they had to wonder.  Somehow the young woman seemed different, and they started wondering if maybe she wore a few masks of her own.  Especially when she joined in to help them all out of a tight spot, and then later went out of her way to prevent two of the team, plus Private Ames, from being targeted in a way that promises no good outcome.   Just who and what WAS Julie Richards?  Did even her brother truly know?  Well they were all about to find out, and what they discover will lead to some changes, some big, some small, but all rather noteable.





	1. All Those Intense Earthy Emotions!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a group of newly-arrived American officers start discussing the Special Forces teams and their current missions in public, they put the guys at risk in more ways than one. While Meghada makes a stand, and ends up in the stockade for her efforts, no one is happy. However, it takes a surprisingly clever Julie Richards to turn things around and eliminate some of the lingering danger. Whoever knew the pretty but flutter-brained young woman could develop and work such a clever con! Hopefully her brother Major Kevin Richards will never find out just what her con did to his social life!
> 
> This Chapter takes place after 'Phobetor, I'm Not Sure You're Helping Here', and before 'It's Skirts Like You What Gives Love A Bad Name'.

It started in a casual way, just a chance encounter in the commissary at HQ in London. And it might not have happened at all if Meghada had had an advance hint of the situation, that Garrison and his team were late returning from a mission, hadn't made their last couple of check-ins with their contact. Certainly she wouldn't have been wasting her time with a trip to the commissary; she'd have been seeking out Kevin Richards for more news! But she hadn't known, having been off on an assignment of her own. She was no longer under Contract, but occasionally did special favors for groups she'd worked with, for team leaders whom she trusted, if she thought the job was important enough, if it required skills or knowledge she had that others might not.

She'd just returned from one such job, successful, but tired, nursing a couple of cracked or broken ribs and a bullet graze, wanting a shower, and her own bed, but most urgently needing coffee and something to eat first. She had made her report, handed over the goods, and after grabbing a quick bite would be off to get checked out at the small private hospital her brothers worked at. She'd taken a fast pull at the flask Ainsley, her team leader for this job, had offered her, then another, refusing a third on the basis of not having had anything to eat in about three days, not mentioning the fact that she'd tasted better fresh and unaged out of a moonshine still using highly dubious ingredients; she wondered absently where he was getting his home-brew and wondered as well if she should clue him in to a better source before he got a batch that led him to either blindness or the morgue. By the time she wrapped her mind around that thought, enough to make the offer, he was off and gone. {"Well, I'll take care of that tomorrow; they can't keep drinking THAT!"} That thought led to to the further realization that she must be much more tired than she'd thought, that she'd been foolhardy enough to take that second swig! 

Frankly, she was not in the best frame of mind - she wanted food, coffee, to get some medical attention, and to get home, not necessarily in that order, but she rather thought the first three were essential to allowing the last to happen; she knew she'd be a danger to herself and anyone she met if she set out on the road right now; even the walls of the hallway seemed to be moving slightly.

A goodly part of that need to get home was in order to check on her laddie and his friends, of course. They'd been at the Mansion when she'd left, but they were rarely there for very long, not the way the war was progressing. This had been a longer trip than usual for her as well; they might have been sent out, hell, been out and back by now, perhaps even turned back around again.

Later, she put part of the event down to her Handler not being Major Kevin Richards this trip out; he'd have known to give her a heads-up as to the situation, not let her find it out on her own. Richards might not necessarily approve of her relationship with the team, especially her more intimate relationship with their blond pickpocket, but he knew better than to try and keep something like this from her, and she'd finally gotten him to stop nagging her about the whole matter, well, at least most of the time.

Still, thinking back later, everyone agreed (well, almost everybody) - some good things came out of the whole affair, including plugging the leak out of HQ, so all in all, it might have been fortunate it all came down as it did. Not for everybody, of course, but what event was really fortunate for everyone involved?

So while she was greatly relieved to be given a hot strong cup of coffee, even if it had obviously been sitting over the heat far too long for its own good, or for the lining of any stomach that encountered it, and wasn't mixing overly well with the rotgut she'd had from Ainsley; and while she was even accepting of the deep fried whatever-the-hell-it-was in that sandwich she was handed, (and no, she had quite enough sense left to NOT inquire as to the origin or species, or whether the motor pool was now offering their beyond-repair tires to the commissary to use in the menu). She was pretty sure they wouldn't have been pleased with her asking, and she most likely wouldn't have been happy with the answer, whatever it was. All in all, she was not in the mood to be charitable toward fools and idiots. 

It DID take her awhile to shift from the 'good grief it feels good to be sitting down on something that isn't moving!' stage, her not being particularly at ease with submarines, (or airplanes, or any of the other assorted 'tin cans' she was wont to end up in when on assignment), to paying some attention to what was happening around her. Of course, the next stage after the 'good grief' stage was usually the 'oh shit, I'm tired and I hurt and I want to sleep for the next three days' stage', so that wasn't a great deal more promising for her state of mind or her forebearance.

The slight frown that came to her face when she realized just what was being discussed at the round table a couple down from her, well, it was more puzzled than anything else, at least at the beginning. Missions were usually kept classified until completion, and often even after that. To hear the details of missions, especially mission-in-progress being discussed so openly was most unusual; she wondered if Kevin Richards knew someone was blathering secrets around the Commissary so freely. 

She listened more closely, heard about Thompson's 'miserable failure' at 'that little cake walk of a job' - heard the extremely competent team leader called an idiot, among other more scurious things, and his team called pretty much the same for 'fouling up a perfectly simple operation'. Well, she didn't know about Thompson's last job, but she'd worked with him and his crew, and would have been content to do so again, which she could NOT say about all the teams she'd worked with.

She listened with interest as they discussed the mission with Ainsley's team she'd just returned from, and wasn't THAT a surprise; seemingly this crew knew more than she did, including casualties that hadn't happened, and results that were certainly contrary to the ones she and the team leader had just been congratulating each other on.

Now the Yank officers at that table had moved on to a new team, a new job, something about diamonds. She then snapped to attention when she realized which team was handling that mission and what was being said.

She knew Garrison and the guys so well, liked and respected them and their talents so much, it was always disconcerting to hear anyone expressing such different views, no matter how often it happened. Still, she was accustomed to those at HQ frequently seeing things quite differently than she did; after all, she'd read her own file, and all the notes and comments others had seen fit to tack on. She usually tried to ignore such nonsense, as long as it posed no real threat, {"might as well get annoyed at water for being wet!"}

She was inclined to ignore them now, their talk, and just finish and go in search of someone who could give her an idea of just what was going on. Well, and put a bug in Kevin Richards' ear that Special Forces missions were apparently an open topic of discussion in the commissary, and maybe he could DO SOMETHING about that before it bit them all in the arse??! But that last bit of commentary, with the resulting coarse laughter, that put paid to that notion, her weariness notwithstanding. Some things just could not be ignored, not by her way of thinking. 

The Yank Lieutenant's voice was loud and carried easily. "His own damn fault, of course; this was his own bright idea, at least agreeing to it, thinking those criminals could be made into a workable team, could be trusted. Hell, from what I hear, the things he's let them get by with shows he's either incompetent, half-blind or is getting a payoff! This job was just too damn big for them to resist and he should have known it! Diamonds, a whole shit load of them, I heard! By now, Garrison is laying in a ditch somewhere in France, those cons of his sitting pretty in Switzerland with the diamonds they went in after. Him being such a pretty boy, bet he got his ass stretched good too before they finished him off; gave that little blond thief of theirs a night off anyways! Maybe they even let the little bastard take a turn, just to see what it's like on the other side!" That was answered by ribald laughter.

"Just as well; we're better off without the lot of them, Garrison included. Should have been rid of them a long time ago; hell, never should have been taken out of prison in the first place! Couldn't believe it, when I got here and heard about him and his 'team'. Damn embarrassing, to my mind, even coming across them in the halls around here, acting like they're just as good as anyone else! Well, we won't be seeing any of them again, that's for sure! Like I said, though, his own damn fault." 

She got up stretched, getting the kinks out, put her hands in her trouser pockets, and sauntered slowly over to the MP at the door, and in an easy, conversational tone, "ei, Corporal. Who's the blaggin ARAB at the corner table? Fair duffer, he is, that's for certain. Is he a muppet, or just minging?" She snorted, rank disgust evident in her voice, "bloody WIMP, totally U/S. Nevermind taking his sorry arse into the field; probably break his fool neck just making a jump, never mind pissing himself if he actually saw any of the kind of action those he's mouthin off about handle every time you turn around!"

Mouths were dropping all over the commissary, as she hadn't bothered to lower her voice; if anything, she thought she had projected rather nicely. There was a knack to that, you know, speaking as if not to reach anyone else, but in truth reaching everyone in the room. Every good actor or actress knew that.

There was dead silence, the MP looking at her like she'd grown a second head. {"Not every day you 'ear a female call an officer all those names!"} translating rapidly in his mind. {"'Lying Arrogant Regular Army Bastard', 'stupid for sure, 'Most Useless Person Ever Trained or just drunk?', 'bloody Whining Incompetent Malingering Prick,' 'totally Unserviceable!' Course, can't say she's wrong, desk officers, the lot, especially with them talking about those who are actually out there under fire, behind enemy lines! And what are they doing talking about an active mission anyway? Thought that was totally off limits! And the Lieutenant what's doing all the blaggin? Ninety-nine day wonder, from what I 'eard!"} 

"What, Corporal, you don't know his name? No matter, I'll just go ask him myself," and she turned to head back.

The Corporal reached out his hand and touched her arm urgently but gently, not harshly, not a grab, knowing quite well her reputation, and in a low voice, "miss, better not. That's Lieutenant Duffy and some of 'is people; they're new in; not a pleasant lot from what I hear. You don't want to mess with them, you don't. They 'eard you; you'd best leave quickly."

She looked up and smiled at him, realizing his benevolent intent, "at ease, Corporal. I've a mind to meet this Lieutenant Duffy and his lot. Yes, can't think of much that would please me better right now. Though I might just finish my coffee first; tastes foul it does, but nowhere so much as what he's laying down." 

She strode over toward her table, passing the round table where the men were sitting with dumbfounded looks on their faces after her spiel, giving them all a highly contemptuous look as she did so, along with a slight lifting of her upper lip in an audible snarl that would have made her sister's wolfhound Estelle proud. The men, all officers though no one above lieutenant certainly, their uniforms all crisp and clean and new, looked at each other incredulously; not often did they get to hear one of their own called those particular names, or accused of being either drunk, lazy, or incompetent; they rarely found themselves on the receiving end of such a look, and certainly such a snarl, as they just had. 

Lieutenant Duffy looked like a thundercloud and raised to his feet, "just who do you think you are?" looking at the heavy-lidded redhead in the somewhat begrimed and bloodied trousers and shirt.

And as she turned, in a calm easy voice she replied, with a casual shrug, "me? I'm the one headed to get another sip of burnt coffee to take away the taste of your foul mouthings. Also, the one who's calling you the son of a leprous, syphilitic camel, pouring your shit outta your blow-hole instead of your arse like most folks. Least with others, it gets directed to the sewers where that sort of crap belongs. I'd tell you to go fuck yourself, Lieutenant, cept I can't imagine you knowing how to get the job done without someone giving you written instructions, with diagrams, not if you're as canny about that as about anything else you've been spouting. That's how they train you ninety-day wonders, isn't it? With comic books, pretty little pictures and diagrams and little short sentences with words under three syllables? Something you can wrap your simple little minds about?" 

The private at a side table had his notebook out, rapidly taking down everything he heard; had from the moment he's heard the talk begin at that big round table; he'd intended to report it all to his friend who worked for Major Richards, since it was all well out of line, to his mind, and the sort of thing just ripe for causing trouble for the team when they got back. But her response, both to the Corporal and now the Lieutenant, it was just too good not to get down as well! He'd heard some from his best friend about this woman, thought he'd recognized her as she came in, and though he'd had his doubts about the funny story Jeffrey would tell him now and again, thinking Jeffrey was pulling his leg, he was fast becoming a believer!

Now all the men at the table were standing, wanting to respond in their fellow officer's defense, but feeling a little foolish too, considering the one berating him was a female, several inches shorter, many many pounds lighter than anyone at the table. 

"I'll have you under arrest. Just who the hell are you?" he half-shouted at her.

"Meghada O'Donnell, Independent Operative, for Special Forces you know, most particularly NOT at your service, Lieutenant. I've little enough patience for officers in the general run, especially Yanks, and those like you, none at all - thinking that bit of chicken-shit trim on your pretty uniform gives you leave to disparage men worth a hell of a lot more than yourself. Craig Garrison and his team are some of the best we have, and it is NOT acceptable for you to be gumming your bloody mash about them. You'd not be able to do even a smidge of what they've accomplished, and to my mind, your talk is as good as cheering on the enemy, wishing the Lieutenant or his men harm."

The lieutenant yelled for the MP, who came over double-time, "arrest this woman!"

The MP looked highly uncomfortable, "on what charges, sir."

Duffy was now bright red in the face. "Insubordination!"

The young woman snorted. "Insubordination, is it??! Pffft! You've been pumpin your scrawney little prick into that syphilitic old mother of yours too long, Lieutenant. Affected your brain, it has. I'm not even IN your bleedin Army! But, be my guest, arrest me. See how far that gets you." 

She gave him a curled-lip look of utter and total contempt, started to turn away and SNAP! The lieutenant stepped squarely over the jaws of the trap and onto the release lever; ahem, that is, he reached out and grabbed the impertinent young woman by the shoulder, yanking her back and giving her a hard shake as he did so. She made no effort to stop him, but when he'd finished, let his hand drop in confusion since she'd made no protest, she reached up to touch her shoulder thoughtfully. 

She smiled at him, and for some reason that smile made just about everyone slightly uneasy, though that private-turned-reporter had just tensed with fervid anticipation, actually holding his breath. Her voice dropped to little more than a whisper, though still clear enough for everyone to hear, since there was no noise whatsoever in the large room.

"I don't take kindly to being touched, Lieutenant. Perhaps in this case, just as words answered words, touch should answer touch, yes?"

The force seemed to radiate from her toes upward, giving her fist the momentum to lay the officer flat on the floor, after, of course, crashing through his chair. She turned to the MP, "Corporal, I believe you were placing me under arrest?" and with a serene, "have a good evening, gentlemen!" she left, the MP following rapidly in her train. The other men around the table scurried to see to their fallen comrade.

She refrained from grunting and shaking out her hand until after she was out of eyes view of the room, after carefully removing the roll of coin she'd had tucked inside, which she tucked back into the pocket where she kept it ready in case of need. {"Bless Goniff, he was right. Just as effective as the brass knuckles, not nearly so noticeable or hard to explain, and leaves me with fewer bruises."}

The Corporal escorting her to a secure room, to be held til further orders, cleared his throat, "shouldn't be saying this, acourse, but Miss? Bloody good shot that was, and right on target, words and all!" and he had to shake his head in reluctant admiration at the totally cheeky grin she gave him.

"Thank you kindly, Corporal. Any information you come across about the status of Lieutenant Garrison and his team, I'd appreciate a word, if you'd be so kind."

The private at the side table had hurriedly finished his notes and scurried away before anyone could stop him and confiscate them, and had heard all that. {"Have to find Jeffrey, right quick now. And a right good scold I'll give him as well; didn't tell me the half of it, he didn't! Of course, doubt I'd have believed it if he had, I'll admit!"}

Patrick O'Donnell arrived at HQ, medical bag in hand, to retrieve his sister who was supposed to have checked in to his hospital a couple of hours ago, and was directed to an office on the seventh floor. He met Private Jeffrey Ames in the hallway, and asked, "any idea what happened, Jeffrey?" only to hear the story which by now had made its way around the entire building.

"Yes, well, she is a bit, what's the term the villagers use for her? Oh, yes, 'peppery', especially where the team is concerned, though I imagine that sort of nonsense would have set most any of their friends off. I'm told she took some damage; she called after her debriefing, left a message and said she'd be headed over for a look-see after she grabbed a quick bite. Being hurt wouldn't have helped her temper any, most like; just reminded her of all that could befall someone out there in the field, put her mind back to worrying about the guys all over again."

Private Ames frowned, "no one said anything about her being injured; I don't think they've had anyone from Medical up there."

"She'd not want any of them poking at her, anyway, not if she had a choice. Here, Jeffrey, what IS the word about Garrison and the guys?" and was very relieved to hear that the team had made the secondary exit rendezvous and were now on their way back, should, in fact, arrive within a couple of hours.

"Good, she'll be better off knowing that. She worries, she does, and rightly so, of course. Can't believe she had to hear about this in the Commissary, and in such a way too. Surely thought Kevin would have . . ."

"Kevin WOULD have, if he'd been the one Handling her on this assignment. But Kevin wasn't, so didn't know she was here in the first place, not til it all hit the fan," came from that august personage coming up behind them.

"However, Garrison and his men WERE acting on orders from me, and I'll be looking into who's been giving out information on the teams and the operations, as well. It's loose talk like that that can cause a lot of harm, in a lot of ways. It certainly doesn't ease the tension between the Special Forces teams and the regular military personnel! Ainsley heard about it already and was rather vocal on the subject, and I imagine Thompson will have more than a few things to say as well. Let's go retrieve her, shall we? I understand from your conversation that she was injured? Surely not here," he frowned.

"No, on the mission," Patrick responded, only to have Private Ames look at them uncertainly.

"Well, she may have some extra bruises, and she may have done some damage to her hand. I understand the lieutenant grabbed her and really gave her a good shaking; that was before she decked him, of course! He wasn't in any shape to do much after she did that! Caught him a good one, she did! A real wisty castor, it was. Wish I could have seen that; a friend of mine was there, and oh my goodness, he said it was something else! And he made notes, everything Lieutenant Duffy was saying, and it was some pretty foul stuff, sir, even apart from him laying out details of the mission, though he seemed to have his information all jumbled up, some dead off, and so on, all the things she said and what she called him; said he'd never heard anything so spot on and so totally beautiful in his life as how she lambasted the bas. . . the Lieutenant, I mean! I've got to get a copy for mother! I didn't even know camels could get syphilis, or leprosy either!"

Richards and Patrick exchanged a long-suffering if somewhat amused look at the exuberance and sheer adulation in the young private's voice, and the three made their way to the room where Meghada was being held. Upon finding the room empty, they made their way to the Commissary to speak with the non-com who had escorted her away.

"Yes, I could see she wasn't there any more, Corporal. My question is, just where IS she? You are joking, surely! The stockade? And just whose brilliant idea was that? Ah, I see. Lieutenant Duffy. Came to, did he? She must really have been tired! Usually they stay down quite a bit longer. No, never mind; I'll deal with it. Yes, I know you were only following orders, Corporal. What's that? Oh, yes, I'll give her your kind regards," shaking his head at the way the young woman seemed to have suborned the enlisted population tonight, no matter what the officers might think!

Of course, he thought some of the Special Forces teams might be having some interesting conversations over this; he noticed Ainsley and his team in the corner, none of them quite meeting his eye, but obviously struggling to keep their faces neutral. {"Probably a mixture of concern over the late return, anger at the way another team was being spoken of and the ill wishes flowing their way from these desk officers, worry over the loose lips giving out information about the missions, and sheer gratified amusement at what was, if anything like described, undoubtedly a superb takedown by the Dragon."}.

He spared a moment to stop by the table and give them a quiet word, that Garrison and his team had reported in with no casualties, would be returning shortly, and saw the tension lessen somewhat. The news that he was aware of, and intended to find and deal with the leaks, that racheted it down a few more knotches. In reply to a question from Alex Ainsley, Richards did admit he'd momentarily lost the young woman, but was going to retrieve her now; he turned down their offer of help, seeing the look in their eyes that promised trouble if they didn't like what they found at the end of their search. The Dragon might be difficult to deal with sometimes, but they'd worked with her, seen her fight just as hard as they did, pull off some things none of them would have thought possible; she'd pulled their butts out of a sling more than once; two of that team wouldn't be sitting there if it hadn't been for her. Then the three headed out to find their missing pepper-pot. 

None of the three were happy with this turn of events. The military stockade was not a place where they thought the young woman should be, not a place Duffy had any authority to be sending her, nor as her brother thought to himself, a place she was likely to stay. He did wonder to himself just what they would find when they got there. It was Private Ames who voiced that opinion out loud. "They put her in the stockade? How long ago? And how long is it going to take to rebuild?" And the silence was followed by one snicker, then another, til all three were joined together in a moment of true brotherly understanding. And although the building was still intact when they pulled up, somehow, it was no surprise that when the guards escorted the three to the cell where the young woman was being held, they found it empty. And no, the guards had no explanation; they seemed as bewildered as anyone else. Though there was a note on the bunk, in her handwriting, "got tired of waiting. Room service here really sucks! Couldn't even get a decent cup of coffee."

By the time they got back to HQ, Lieutenant Duffy was there to meet them, steaming. He made the mistake of bracing Patrick, once he'd found out who Patrick was, and couldn't have been overly pleased with the amused response to his accusations.

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Lieutenant. You sent my sister to the stockade for what exactly? Insubordination? In what way was she insubordinate, and to whom?" He listened to the blustering response from the man with the beginnings of a rather impressive shiner.

"Ah, I see. Well, you have to understand, you can't really place that at our parents' door. They most certainly taught us to be respectful of authority, of our superiors, I assure you of that. However, in this case, since you are neither her superior, in ANY possible meaning of the word, nor do you have any specific authority over her, respect would be obligatory only if it had been earned. I think it is safe to assume that is not the case here. And anyone in the know could have told you, Lieutenant, you only lay your hands on her at your own risk. There are reasons she's called the Dragon, you know. You're lucky she was tired, and that she aimed high! She's just as likely to have gone for your nuts; then you WOULD have something to moan about! Though you might put some ice on that eye; it's turning a rather remarkable color, you know." And the resulting threats against Patrick were met with amused indifference, as well they should have been, him being neither military or in any way under the Lieutenant's authority either.

Richards listened with decreasing patience as the man continued his harrange after Patrick had turned and walked away, heading back to the hospital where he rather thought he would find his sister.

"Lieutenant Duffy, if you will excuse me. I have to go and get ready for the debriefing with Lieutenant Garrison and his team; they are due shortly, and I dislike making them wait any longer than necessary considering the importance of the mission they've just completed. You and I will be meeting, as well; I believe we have several things to discuss." And he, in turn, walked away, Private Ames at his side, leaving Lieutenant Duffy sputtering in the hallway.

And such was Duffy's indignation that it was only later that he felt some level of apprehension. He remembered now all those warnings about 'keeping tight lips', and thought maybe combining all those little bits and pieces he'd discovered, and expanded and elaborated on, well, maybe that hadn't been such a good idea. (That would be reinforced most strongly in the rather tense meeting with Major Kevin Richards later.)

And as far as Garrison was concerned? A supposedly missing-in-action Garrison and team was quite a different kettle of fish than an alive-and-present Garrison and team. Duffy thought about the reputation the team had built, about their backgrounds, and he wilted just a little. He wondered just how soon the news about his rather disparaging and possibly ill-advised words would reach his fellow officer, and wondered if he might put in for a bit of leave. He uneasily replayed his part of that conversation in his mind, all he'd said, and rethought the idea of requesting leave. Perhaps reassignment? He wondered just how quickly that could be arranged.

***  
She was still at the hospital, ribs now bound firmly in place, bullet graze cleaned and bandaged, various bruises and cuts tended to, slightly swollen right hand iced down, in clean clothes, and having downed some decent food for the first time in days. Patrick had tucked her up in a room, settled her on the bed, and went to deal with other matters. She'd decided against starting the trip home; she'd prefer to be close to monitor the news about the team.

She heard their voices in the hallway, and was just easing her feet off the bed to go check on them when they came through the door, escorted by a smiling Patrick. While they weren't bounding or bouncing or even stepping too sprightly, they were all in one piece, just a few bruises here and there, none too clean, obviously in need of food and a good sleep; but the important thing, they were HERE!

She let herself be gathered into the warm arms of their resident pickpocket and bundled back onto the bed, them both now leaning up against the headboard, and gave herself the luxury of resting her head in the curve of his neck, smiling at the familiar comfort she found there and in his arms. Chairs were brought in, along with food and drink, and she focused on them, their stories, their laughter, and enjoyed the sheer relief of their presence.

It wasn't til Private Ames walked in, bouquet of flowers in his hands and bottle of bourbon under his arm, (a joint gift from himself and Private Dalgreen, the budding reporter from the Commissary), did her tale get told, not by her, but by the young man, with much enthusiasm on his part, having heard the entire story from young Dalgreen. In fact, Private Ames had a transcript of those notes, which he read out loud, to the flushed face of the young woman, her blond laddie beside her holding her close.

She gave a slightly embarrassed chuckle, "I rather lost my temper, I believe."

"I dont even know what any of that means!" Goniff complained, referring to his lady's conversation with the MP in the commissary, since the rest had been quite easily understood and greatly enjoyed by all present, and he roared along with the others when Private Ames translated with a wide grin. 

It was Actor who started the next round of laughter with his solemn comment. "You know, Meghada, I understand you are working quite earnestly on the concept of being subtle, and I applaud your efforts, of course, but I do feel I need to share my observation that you have a bit farther to go in the matter before achieving perfection."

They all agreed, she just didn't have it down pat yet; they all agreed, as well, that being subtle, well, maybe it was an overrated talent anyway. There were always those who just didn't get the message with 'subtle'. That she would defend them, that didn't surprise them, not anymore; that they appreciated it, well that was evident from the affectionate smiles she was getting. That they were more than a little pissed at the officers at that table, well, that was pretty obvious too. Having the details of a mission out there for anyone to hear, well that made their jobs much more risky, drawing too much attention from the wrong sort, especially with a fortune of diamonds at stake. They knew they'd have to watch their backs, watch out for their pickpocket more closely too, in case that talk from the Lieutenant had given any one the idea of making him a target for a different sort of trouble, perhaps make any of them a target. 

Garrison walked closer, reached out to inspect the swollen knuckles, and with a wry shake of his head, bent and kissed her fingers with an elegance Actor would have been proud to have claimed. As for himself, thinking over those words from Lieutenant Duffy, which Private Ames had without hesitation repeated in their blunt entirety, Lieutenant Garrison had already decided on a little up close and personal discussion with the vocal Lieutenant Duffy.

{"Perhaps a challenge for a bout in the boxing ring might prove interesting,"} and the thought brought a cold smile to the young officer's face. {"Maybe I can see to it that his eyes actually match. Maybe even add a few enhancements! If he doesn't have the guts for that, maybe something else can be arranged."} 

The mood changed once again, when Meghada snuggled closer to her blond laddie and laid her head back in the curve of Goniff's neck, inhaled deeply, and under the pungency of the smell of dirt and sweat and gunpowder and blood, and the stink of burnt oil that came from those blasted 'tin cans', past the basic scent that was just him ("sweet sage and mint and musk", she thought fondly), she smelled it; she tilted her head back and whispered something to him, and the wide grin on his face was all she had to see, especially when matched with that rich chuckle deep in his chest, and the tightening of his arms around her, along with his proud words that followed.

"See, mates; I told you she'd know!"

Patrick looked from one to the other, "Meghada? Should I ask?"

She grinned at her brother, "I just told him she smelled expensive, and asked if she was pretty."

The look on Patrick's face wasn't nearly as amused as that gracing his sister's. 

"Well, was she, Goniff?" came as a rather crisp question from brother number two, who'd just walked in.

"Michael, don't you and Patrick start," Meghada warned them.

"No, it's alright, luv," dropping a light kiss on her temple, facing the brothers of the woman he held so comfortably against him. "Yes, mates, she was pretty, ruddy beautiful in fact, and grateful as 'ell. Course, so was 'er 'usband and kids; got 'andshakes from 'im, 'ugs from the tikes, and a kiss on the cheek from 'er. All round, better than we get from the Brass when we pull off one a these jobs," all with a wide grin of mischief. He didn't resent the brothers being protective; he'd have been a little disappointed in them if they hadn't been. Well, as long as he was still on the up and up, and he had no intention of NOT being, not now, not ever, not with either of them, looking down at the warm figure in his arms, glancing across the room at green eyes that met his with knowing amusement.

Private Ames got an anxious, apologetic look on his face, the look of one caught in some gross dereliction of duty. "I'm sorry! I don't think any of the Brass KNEW you were looking for hugs and kisses from them, guys! I can drop a hint if you want," only to get smacked in the face with the pillow Goniff had yanked off the bed and thrown at the now grinning young man.

"Thanks, kid, but I think we'll pass," Casino assured him, and again the laughter started.

**

And while this was not the way any of them would have chosen to go about it, this incident was the one that, while it initially led to 'all that talk' about Goniff and the team, ultimately it was also the one that pretty much led to the finish of 'all that talk'.

Yes, there were a couple of times when one or more of the soldiers or staff thought to brace the smaller man, but he was a fighter now in his own right, though not with the mass to deal with several attackers at one time; but the others were never far away, knowing how Duffy's words could cause trouble, and the other Special Forces teams were on the lookout as well, even the ones that didn't much like the guys themselves, because, hey, some things just required taking a stand, especially when it was them versus the regular army types. They'd all taken more than their share of guff from the ARAB's. Both times the proposed assailants found themselves flat in the dust, then in the infirmary if not worse.

But it was the next couple of incidents that really put paid to most, if not all, the danger. Most, but not all, because there are always a few idiots just too dense to take a broad hint, and the guys did tend to make some enemies all on their own; but still, that was an improvement. And both incidents did provide a nice bit of gossip for HQ and many others, until the next bit of scandal broke, which of course it did. It always does.

**

It was Julie Richards at her silliest, her outright chattiest, holding forth to a small, then ever-increasing audience.

"Well, it's quite well known in some circles, you know, though they did keep it very quiet for the longest time, neither of them having a liking for being the target for gossip. Well, you know how some people are, just have to talk, talk, talk, talk, talk."

That got a snicker or two, considering how her voice was somehow just a little higher-pitched than they'd remembered it, and her tongue moving a mile-a-minute, all with an avidly enthusiastic yet confiding expression on her face.

"Still, eventually things do get out. My brother, Major Richards, he works with Lieutenant Garrison and his team quite closely, and also with Miss O'Donnell. She's the one they call the Dragon, of course, because she's so terribly fierce. Some have called her The Ice Queen, which seems rather unfair, just because she's particular, and doesn't want anyone thinking they can just get fresh with her whenever they take the notion, and puts them down firmly if they try. I mean, that's what we're taught is the right way to behave, isn't it? Why should she be castigated for it?"

"She and I have become friends, of a casual nature anyway, her being rather a private person. She has a lot to occupy her, though much of it is very hush-hush, so she isn't available for frivolity very often, which is truly a disappointment, but still, I'm lucky I get to spend SOME time with her. She is ever so smart and funny, you know, and her clothes, her jewelry! Oh my! We would absolutely kill to know the name of her designers! The style is so uniquely her, ever so rich and elegant, and quite out of the ordinary. And the materials, the fabrics? Absolutely to die for, darlings! I've never seen anything like them in the shops, even before the war! We rather have to coax her to join in our activities, but she's much admired and has become quite popular in my set, and we've seen enough, heard enough to know it's quite true . . . About the two of them, I mean!" 

Julie Richards widened her peripheral vision just enough to know she'd caught the attention of the various small groupings of soldiers, enlisted, non-coms and officers around her in the Commissary, along with the female relatives and guests. This had been fun, introducing the subject, then circling further and further away from it, then bringing it all back with that quick snap! She had decided that since this was where the trouble started, and since there was always a varied groupings of the ranks for this particular event, it would be a good place to do her bit to end it all, though with a more ideal audience.

She was taking a page from Meghada's book, maybe several. Starting with subtle perhaps but not ending up there; oh, not at all subtle, and Julie refrained from the giggle she really wanted to break out with. Of course she'd checked with Meghada first, making sure she was alright with this, as well as Garrison, and Goniff and the others. Well, they were, alright and amused and most anxious to hear how it all went; after all, THAT part was no longer really a secret, and if the OTHER was something she'd figured out just recently, well they didn't need to know that, or anyone else for that matter. There were some things that just needed to stay quiet, at least til the war was over, maybe even then with people wanting to mind other people's business and those silly laws and all. 

"Why, even in my set, there was some consternation when we figured it out, and that took awhile because they were both on the go so much, coming and going on assignments, and not having all that much time to themselves, and one or two, possibly more, of my set tried to make a play for him themselves, not truly understanding the situation. I mean, there's certain gossip about him among the ladies, all to his benefit, you know, quite intriguing, and they were most interested. ('A Flash In The Pan') But he would have no part of them, and truthfully that was for the best, don't you think? I mean, with her temper and all, I certainly wouldn't want her to find out I'd made a play for the one man she's taken such a fancy to in all this time. Oh my goodness! Well, you know about the men she's sent to the hospital for getting fresh with her! And I've heard her give some rather remarkable setdowns to one or two females who got on the wrong side of her, and I certainly wouldn't want to be on the receiving end, I'll tell you that! My brother says she's quite formidable in ALL kinds of fighting, you know, including in the drawing room!"

"Of course, one or two of the ladies were quite annoyed when he brushed them off, though he was really very nice about it, and to pay him back started a rumor about him and the other guys on his team." She paused, looked around, and whispered, though still in an amazingly penetrating voice, "you know what I mean, THOSE kind of rumors!" Her voice returned to normal, well, normal when she was trying to reach just about everyone in her vicinity.

"One woman in particular, well she was friends with that awful Lieutenant Duffy who was here for awhile, and from what I heard, he bought her silly stories hook line and sinker, and even started passing them around, making up some of his own, trying to cause trouble. Not terribly bright of him, but she COULD be persuasive, I know that. Of course, she's not welcome in our group anymore; I mean, how COULD we? Gossip is one thing, but that really was despicable, don't you think, trying to cause trouble for our men fighting the war? I know they say 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,' but I think we really should be above that, don't you? And it wasn't even like he scorned them; just let them know up front he wasn't interested, which surely he has as much right to do as anyone else!" 

She again took stock, seeing she had the interest of everyone in the room now. She kept chattering away, like a little idiot, to the three wives and two sisters of other service personnel who'd joined her for tea here at the monthly 'Social Hour' HQ hosted. The rest were listening though, however sureptitiously. Somehow, with so many attending, since attendance was pretty much mandatory for any in the immediate area, it seemed the perfect venue for this little play. And what she found so delightful, well, as Meghada had been known to remark, 'working a con while telling the absolute truth, that's the best and most satisfying!'

"And I've seen them myself, slow dancing all wrapped up in each other's arms, and him obviously enjoying it," she tittered, her body wiggling just a little bit as if relishing the memory, and smirked gently, "if you know what I mean. There was just no hiding his reaction to her, and you could tell it was no different for her, though with a woman it's just not so physically noticable of course, but you could still certainly tell she was most affected!" ('A Little Night Music') And I heard my brother say he'd found them . . . well, he just dropped his voice when he realized I was in the room, but it was obvious what he had been GOING to say!" ('Home To Mother').

"My brother was in a state of shock, he said; after all the men she's just decimated for trying to touch her, to see her so comfortable with his arms around her, especially when it was obvious it wasn't something new with them. They hadn't even been angry with him for barging in like that, like they couldn't drag themselves away enough to even engage with him; she just sort of vaguely told Kevin he should leave, and he said they didn't even wait til he got out of the room before they went right back to, well, whatever they were doing!" Julie fanned herself with her hand, "so passionate! So . . ." and she heaved a sigh that really should have blown the paper napkins off the table in front of them. 

Miss Canton was all wide-eyed and wet-lipped, the others not far behind her, but being a bit older, one or two much older, were able to hide their reactions a little better.

"So she and Lieutenant Garrison, they're . . ." Julie stared at Miss Canton, blinked rapidly as if trying to understand what the young woman was saying, and then replied.

"Oh, no, of course not, don't be silly! On, he's quite pleasing to look at, I'll admit, but the Lieutenant appears to be far too much like my brother, Major Richards, you know, all stern and proper, all attention to duty. Charming, when they choose to be, but not quite so prone to the more intense earthy emotions. Rather above all that, you know; terribly focused on their duty."

She hoped her brother would never find out what she'd just done to his dating potential; she rather though Craig Garrison wouldn't mind in the least!

"No, the slender blond man on his team, the English one, you know. Supposedly whatever job he has on the team makes him ever so, well - good with his hands, ever so agile, and with so much stamina, I've heard! And I saw them kissing once, and it would seem he's quite responsive to her, and not just when dancing, and it seemed everything else I'd heard was true too!" and taking another bit from Meghada, gave just a tiny giggle and shiver. "Well, I can't say I blame her one little bit, no matter what anyone might say against him. She'd be a fool to pass up someone like that!" 

By the next afternoon, the word had spread, and while there were those who were clearly skeptical, still, it killed a lot of the other talk Duffy had started. When she related all of this to Meghada and the guys, the reaction was everything she could have hoped for, and for the first time, she found herself a truly welcome visitor to the Mansion, and was rather relishing laying aside the need to appear quite so silly as usual. Though she could see from the grins and looks exchanged that Craig Garrison was going to take some severe teasing about his being 'above all those intense earthy emotions'. 

In fact, just later that night, "no, no, it's alright, Craig; you don't 'ave to come in with us. You just stay in 'ere and read a book or something. After all, from what I've 'eard, you're 'above all those intense earthy emotions'," only to be answered by a growl, and a hard rush that bowled him over from his seated position on the floor onto his back on the thick plush rug, and a deep kiss that took Goniff's breath away and made Meghada roll with laughter.

"Aye, love, obviously he's above all that!! Most obvious that is!! Craig, the bedroom is that way? Do you think you might make it that far?? Craig? Craig?"

She stopped laughing only when they pulled her into the embrace, and no, they never made it to the bedroom. Well, that's why she had bought that big soft plush rug in the first place, wasn't it? Such a wise purchase, when you think of it; well worth the tariff.

The team was sent on a mission, had just got back, had just finished debriefing and headed to the Commissary for coffee and a fast meal before heading home. Garrison and his team came through the wide opening; well, most of his team. They were in line, and Garrison looked around, "where the hell is Goniff? He was just there!" The tired looking Lieutenant was not particularly pleased to have lost one of his team, that much was plain.

"Hell, I don't know, Warden. He was just behind us; can't see how he'd get lost that fast," came from Casino.

Just then, from the hallway, "oh, for heaven's sake! Stop that, you two!" clearly the voice of an annoyed Major Kevin Richards. "What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were in debriefing. Where's Garrison?"

They couldn't hear the reply, "well, go on, catch up with him! And you, my dear Miss O'Donnell, straighten yourself up and I'll stand you to a cup of coffee. Alright, along with you, both of you now! The hallway's no place for that sort of thing!"

And through the doorway came a slender blond pickpocket, complete with a totally smug grin on his face, as usual dressed in those oversized khaki's, not overly clean anymore. He paused just a second, rose on his toes and twitched his lower body just a little like he was adjusting the fit of his trousers, then searched out his team mates and hurried to join them.

Following close behind, the redhaired Meghada O'Donnell, the grin she was trying to control, rather unsuccessfully, contrasting with the highly exasperated look on Kevin Richard's face. There was something about her lips, just a trifle wet, perhaps just a trifle swollen that gave a hint of the activities that had taken place outside that wall, along, of course, with the fact that her top was gaping and misbuttoned. Those three were followed closely by Private Ames, poker faced, but secretly thoroughly pleased with himself for having been able to get an unknowing Major Richards into the right place at the right time to witness that little scene, to produce just the right reaction.

Though the voices were low-pitched, those closest (and those quite willing to relay those words to everyone later) could hear Garrison's irritated voice as he delivered a quick reprimand to the short man who literally bounced into the food line. "Ten minutes ago you were too tired to think of heading back home without something to eat and a good sit-down. NOW all of a sudden you have energy again!"

And that low chuckle, "can't 'elp it, Warden. Ruddy inspiring she is!" with a wicked look over at the redhead sitting with Major Richards, to which his team members responded with a loud laugh, and the O'Donnell girl responded with a wide smirk of her own. Garrison and Kevin Richards shared a long look, and a highly annoyed sigh. And the onlookers, well, the word of that got around quickly too.

In the car headed home, the two were teased about the performance, and Garrison turned around in the seat to add one more comment.

"Who would have thought Jeffrey Ames could get Kevin Richards involved in a performance like that . . ." only to give a loud groan, meeting the eyes of Chief, who was leaning back in one corner, arms folded over his chest with an uncharacteristic grin on his face. At the groan, Actor turned his head, and even Casino glanced in the rear view mirror. Casino added a groan to match Garrison's at the sight of the blond pickpocket and the redhead deeply involved in the other corner, neither in the least aware of the attention they were now getting.

"Jeeze, you guys, can't you even wait til we get home??!"

Matters weren't helped any when Chief offered, "hey, Warden. Casino could pull over and I could change places with you, if you want," and the sound from Garrison was suspiciously like a cross between a snarl and a moan.

Casino objected vociferously, "look you guys! Car's rocking enough with all the potholes on these roads as it is!" And the laughter filled the car, not that any of it disturbed the couple in the corner, no, not at all.

The staff member who'd thought to enhance his popularity by gossiping about the teams and their missions, he found himself in a totally different role, in not nearly so sensitive, or nearly so pleasant a working environment. That was after a blistering reprimand from Major Richards that he would never forget.

And yes, Craig Garrison did have his little one-on-one discussion with Lieutenant Duffy, and while the colors on those eyes didn't exactly match, they coordinated somewhat, as purple and green do on occasion. Duffy's transfer request did go through, and he only hoped it was sufficiently far away so as to avoid any further contact with Garrison or any member of his team. That one meeting in the hallways of HQ, with the men glaring at him, and the small thief actually advancing on him, snarling at him, til the others pulled him back, well, that had made him highly wary of leaving the building while they were anywhere around, and when word of that got out, the others, officers and enlisted alike, started snickering at him whenever they saw him. It was all highly unpleasant!


	2. Sometimes I Hear Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being thought silly and flighty, a real ditz, did have some advantages. It was amazing what you could hear when people thought you were just too dense to comprehend. Sometimes those things were just amusing or slightly interesting, sometimes even boring. But sometimes, what she heard needed someone to take a hand to prevent bad things from happening. It was just a question of which someone she slipped the information to. Sometimes it was a concerned family member, sometimes it was her upright brother Kevin, and sometimes, like now, it was a certain redhead with a temper and a protective streak a mile wide.
> 
> This Chapter takes place after 'No Way To Fight A War'.

"Yes, I know most people think I'm silly. Well, okay, not most, but the ones who actually have brains, which when you think about it is really a lot less than 'most'! I admit I run with a pretty silly crowd, and to do that, you have to act the part, and I'm not the sharpest tack in the box anyway so I don't find that challenging, but I'm not an idiot, not nearly so much as I appear sometimes! Okay, so some pretty obvious things have slipped past me, at least for awhile, and I DO like the more outre fashions and little cocktail hats, and parties and gossip and having fun.

I know Kevin gets really annoyed at me dragging him into my 'scene'. But honestly, if I didn't, my big brother would just sit there in that big building and stew about things and get grumpier than he already is. Well, when he's not off doing all those scary things I'm not supposed to know anything about. And while a lot of the things the society set gets up to, to amuse themselves with could be termed rather inconsequential to anyone not IN that set, still, most are harmless, frivolous little things." 

"I rather miss frivolity, you know; I remember a time when you could pick up a newspaper or a book or turn on the radio and not have to hear about such awful things, and I know it makes me shallow, but I MISS those times! I know that sounds like I'm a twit, and I guess I am. I don't know how to do anything that would be big enough and important enough to make a difference, and I'm not smart or brave enough either. I can't stand the sight of blood, or the smell of anything nasty, and get terribly depressed by being around anyone who's sick or hurt, and I'm absolutely of no use around children, so volunteering at the hospitals and clinics and homes, well, that wouldn't work."

"But I do respect and admire women who ARE smart and brave and who actually DO things to help. I admire women who decide things for themselves, and don't let society or anyone else tell them what they should or shouldn't do, think or feel. I actually have a bit of a crush on one of them; oh, not THAT kind of crush. I like men well enough, have never had any Sapphic leanings. But hero worship? Or do I mean heroine worship? Well, that I have, and I've got it bad! I'd feel even sillier if I didn't think Kevin felt pretty much the same, only I think he's got it all mixed up in his mind with something else. Kevin is a lot smarter than I am about almost everything, but I think maybe not so much in this. I just hope he doesn't get hurt before he figures it out."

"Anyhow, because I'm generally considered to be silly, and not very smart, I hear things; people say things in front of me, or when I'm in the room, thinking I won't understand what they're saying. Well, sometimes I don't, that's true; but I understand a lot more than I let on. I've gotten really good at that, the not letting on, I mean, and paying attention. Sometimes I've been able to drop a word in just the right ear, where it could do some good." 

"I've gotten even better at that since I met HER, Meghada O'Donnell, her and her sisters. They are all so good at that. I've heard them say they don't do 'subtle', but what they do, it's so far beyond that sometimes. Oh, not always. Sometimes they are painfully direct. I don't have as much to do with her younger sisters, Ciena or Coura; they're not around very much, and I've only met the oldest sister, Caeide, once or twice, the one Kevin was so obsessed with before he switched all that over to Meghada. But Meghada, well, I've seen Meghada do things, heard her say things that make jaws drop; it is so utterly delicious. A lot of the times I'm as shocked as everyone else, but when I get home and start replaying it in my head? ('A Flash In The Pan'), then I find myself giggling and outright laughing! And let me tell you, you get more than one of the sisters in the same room at the same time?? ('He Brings Out The Music In Me') Oh my goodness!"

"What was I . . .?? Oh, yes, about her not doing 'subtle', but something else. Well, I don't know what to call it, really, but with a facial expression, just a tilt of the head, a tiny sound, add in a word or two, the way she moves, and you can see the 'idea', whatever she's trying to get someone to think, you can see it grow, and then there it is, and they think it's their OWN idea."

"Back to my hearing things. I'm in a bit of a privileged position, you see; family and background let me mingle with the social set and government set, while my brother Kevin's position lets me mingle with the military set. That crosses a lot of lines, socially. So I hear about who's dating who, who's cheating on who, who's marrying for money, or love, or position. I know which shops are fashionable, which parties are de rigueur and which are deadly to attend (either because the hosts have passed beyond the social pale in some way, or because the company is so boring you couldn't stay awake). And I hear other things."

"I was the one who quietly warned Millicent Abbring's brother about that nasty little plot the Carmichael boys were planning, and he was able to put a stop to it in time for her and her reputation not to be damaged, and those two certainly intended to do both. I was the one who asked Kevin, oh so vaguely, about the meaning of those odd words I'd heard those two men use while I was passing that library on the way to the withdrawing room, enough to get his attention, enough for him to question me a little bit more, and next thing you know, those two have been arrested for passing counterfeit bills."

"Still, some things I hear, well, one thing in particular, I just didn't know how to handle, couldn't think of any little hints to drop; it just wasn't that sort of thing. After all, how do you drop a 'hint' about something so awful, involving people you'd never think would do such things? So I decided to go to the expert; no, not Kevin. He'd have a stroke or think I'd lost my mind! No, even though what I'd heard involved people Kevin knew, people he'd not want to get hurt, this was obviously a job for someone with a true talent, maybe not for 'subtle', but for being smart and brave and all the other things I told you about. Her, Meghada O'Donnell, my heroine."

"I'd sneaked a look at her file once in Kevin's office, and listened when he and Lieutenant Garrison and Private Ames and Sergeant Major Rawlins talked, (as I said, they tend to ignore me, thinking I really don't understand what they're saying), and I just knew she was the one to go to. Even though I think she would have helped in any case, because what was happening was so wrong, the fact that what I heard made me think the next targets would be people she really cared about? Well, from what I'd heard, from Kevin and from others, that was just something a smart person didn't DO, mess with someone she'd decided was worth protecting. And, unlike Kevin, she didn't seem all that concerned about protocol and military procedure and all that, and handling things in a 'proper' and legal fashion. And somehow I didn't think this was something that could be handled by someone obeying a set of rules."

"So I made a little visit to a cottage in Brandonshire, someplace I'd never been. The cottage, I mean; I've been to Brandonshire, the Mansion, with Kevin several times. But the cottage? That was her private territory, and Kevin had made it clear it was off-limits. I think he was afraid I'd walk in on something he wouldn't want me to see. Or maybe he was just afraid I'd irritate her so much . . .}

***

"Suicide?"

"Well, that's what the whispers say, though it's being put about by the family that it was a heart attack, though a heart attack at twenty-two for a suposedly healthy man is rather rare, I'd think. But, it wasn't really; I mean, is it suicide if someone drives you to kill yourself; does something so awful that you think you have to kill yourself?"

Somehow when she opened that kitchen door to see Julie Richards, this was NOT how she envisioned her morning to be going. She'd given an internal groan, thinking she wasn't sure she had the patience for the silly woman, wondering if she could invent an errand that just couldn't wait. But, somehow, the look on Julie's face, in her eyes, well, it was different enough from her usual giddiness, so different in fact that Meghada had stepped back and allowed her to enter, at first thinking something might have happened to Kevin. 

Now, as they sat at the kitchen table, talking over that pot of strong coffee that Julie had choked on, before Meghada had brought out the heavy cream and sugar and diluted it to something still powerful, but more approaching what the cottage owner would have considered dessert, Meghada was more than glad she'd invited the woman in. Still, something in Julie's face told her that if she had tried to turn her away, she'd have gotten an argument, and she'd have been right; she found herself rather impressed with the woman, something she'd certainly never thought would happen before than little incident with Lieutenant Duffy.

"Do you prefer sweet, savory or basic?" she now asked, as she rose from the table, getting a puzzled look.

Meghada explained, "this sounds like a discussion best held with some nourishment behind it. I've sweet biscuits, herbed scones with cream cheese, or homemade bread with butter. Or some of each?" and proceeded to set out an assortment. She knew that sometimes having something to do with your hands, being able to pause in what you were saying, but with a logical reason like spreading the butter or taking a bite, well, that sometimes helped in a serious discussion. And it did, though more than once she had to urge the reluctant Julie to repeat what she'd heard, it being unpleasant enough for her to hesitate even giving it voice. 

"Did you know him well?" and Julie shook her head.

"No, only casually; he was part of the younger set. Only by a very few years, but enough we didn't mix but rarely. Being the heir, he wasn't allowed to join the military, but served in some capacity in the Embassy, I believe. Nothing too important; he was thought to be a nice boy, but not overly smart; rather naive, you know. As far as I could find out, he didn't run with a fast set, wasn't the kind to get up to mischief, wasn't a chaser or a gambler or a libertine, anything like that. He had his secrets, yes, but he was discreet." She gave the younger woman a fast look, "you understand, 'discreet'?"

And the calm understanding nod let her go ahead. "Meghada, it isn't right! Maybe he wasn't too smart, and maybe he was important only to his family and a few close friends, and maybe there's lots who'd disapprove of him if they knew, and I know what the law says, but it just isn't right! He didn't deserve for this to happen!"

And Meghada had to agree, it wasn't right; it was very, very wrong. But she still wasn't sure why this was being presented to her, at her kitchen table, and not to the police, or the military, or the boy's family. So she asked that very sensible question, and at the answer, she swallowed heavily, and went to the cabinet to pull out a bottle and gave a healty slosh of the rich bourbon into her coffee cup, and into Julie's when the older woman gave her a nod. And she agreed, her kitchen table was exactly the right spot for Julie to have unburdened herself...

"Craig, when you had your little visit with the Everings, do you remember a Lady Saunders being there? Tall brunette, early thirties, dark eyes? Or a Mitchell Davener or a Louis Caldrone?" ('No Way To Fight A War')

Garrison tilted his head, "not that I recall. I was so busy avoiding everyone and their hands, I didn't catch all the names. Any special reason for asking?"

"Something that came up today. Are you and the team getting any special requests, more attendances at house parties, or anything like that? Anything in the social mingling line, anything at all, including undercover or guard duty, for you or the guys. It's important, Craig." 

He frowned at her, considering, thinking it hadn't been all that long ago that he'd have never ever thought of discussing such things with her, perhaps would have reported her for even inquiring; not so much anymore.

"HQ wants us at a dinner party next week - Lord Almeir; they're worried someone is passing secrets in that venue; their guest lists tend to include those from the social set, the embassy and Whitehall, some from the military - a pretty broad spectrum. Actor and I go in as guests, foreign dignitary, incognito of course, and his military escort; the guys, part of the wait staff. Meghada, what's this about?"

And she poured him a stiff drink, and sat down and related what had been told to her. Her descriptions were quite graphic, and he found he sorely needed that drink. 

"They just make off with one of the guests and . . ." he said with a voice filled with doubt. "How could that even happen? There'd be other people around, people wondering why someone went missing. There'd be witnesses, someone would see or hear something. And surely they'd be afraid whoever they made off with would TALK afterwards!"

"Craig, these people - the social set, their ilk, well, you said yourself you saw it at the Everings, they don't seem to pay so much attention to each other as they do to themselves. I've been to parties where you could SEE the people were there to be SEEN, to perhaps IMPRESS someone else, but so totally self-absorbed that anyone outside their immediate scope, just fade into the woodwork. I don't know if there have been others, though I rather believe there must have been; I hardly think she and her little group started with young Lottley; it went off too smoothly. He attended a party at someone's house, and just didn't make it home for a day or so; was dead by his own hand two days later; maybe he left that house after the party, maybe he didn't; if he left, whether he left alone or not, no one could remember! And the family avoided asking too many questions anyway; it would have tainted that scandal-avoiding story of his suffering a fatal heart attack. And I'd think they are most careful about who they choose as a victim, someone vulnerable in some way, someone they'd think wouldn't talk for whatever reason. Sweet Mother, and would they even be believed??!"

"Okay, how do we fit into this?" He poured another two fingers of the liquor into his glass, feeling sure he'd need it before too long.

"My source told me, the three possible names for the next little 'party' - you, Chief, or Private Ames," and the totally incredulous look in his eye would have made her give a grim chuckle if this wasn't all so serious.

"Me?? An American officer, on constant call by HQ? And they think they'd get away with that? One of my team members? Someone I, at least in theory, always have under my direct oversight?" They exchanged a rueful look at that 'at least in theory', considering the guys and their propensity for getting up to mischief rather far afield.

"And your brother's personal Aide? How does that even make any sense?" he asked, running his fingers through his gold-blond hair. 

"Aside from them getting overconfident and overly ambitious, and taking you all in reverse order, Jeffrey appears a lot younger and more innocent and naive than he is, similar to young Lottley in a lot of ways, including that gawky, not quite grown-into-himself look, though that is more than a little deceiving with Jeffrey; he'll probably bear that same look twenty years from now and more; his father does and he's in his forties. He's in HQ, in a sensitive position. What would something like this do to him if it became public knowledge? What are the odds of him making public accusations, at the risk of his position? Chief, well, who'd believe him, outside of you and the guys, and would he even tell, for shame, for fear of being sent back? That's how THEY are probably thinking of it, anyway. And there is a certain exotic appeal with him, something out of their ordinary, something they wouldn't encounter every day, often be given the opportunity to experience. NO! Stop looking at me like that, Craig, for goodness sakes! I'm telling you how I think THEY are thinking!"

He had the grace to look embarrassed at that sharp reproof, knowing his face showed his shock at her coldly logical breakdown of the attributes of the two young men. 

"You, you bear certain physical similarities to young Lottley; he also had that gold blond hair and green eyes, slender build; you'd be a risk, certainly, more than the others, but your light doesn't shine all that brightly in HQ, we both know that. There's been talk about you and the team, of various kinds, but it's common knowledge that you risk a lot to protect them; a threat to them might just be enough to keep you quiet."

"She has some power, through her social position, through her entourage; one of them is in the military chain of command, another on the Whitehall side. The others, they pose as servants, though I believe they are much more, of course, have lives and positions other than that; I'm still ferretting all that out. And, Craig, once someone starts games like this, it's only a matter of time before they stop relying on fear and shame to keep their victims quiet. Lottley killed himself, at least I believe so; that may have given them ideas, may make them think that's an ideal solution."

"Yes, well, they can't expect all of their victims to just . . .' and his voice trailed off as he understood her train of thought. "So they just might handle that themselves, you mean? Just set the stage?? Shit, Meghada!" 

He was right; he needed that drink. And he had a lot of thinking to do. What and how much to explain to the guys, for one thing; there was no way it was going to be easy! The reactions were not going to be pretty; Goniff alone could be a disaster if they set him off! No, never mind that, they each and every one of them would be a disaster!!

He wondered if, indeed, he DID have to explain things; perhaps he'd wait and see what Meghada had in mind. In the meantime, no one was going to be out of his sight, and he wasn't likely to be doing any wandering either. Maybe just something vague, something general, to put everyone on their guard. But young Jeffrey, now, there was a different story. But when he said as much to Meghada, her eyes got icy.

"Jeffrey is Family. Ian and Patrick and Michael will see to his safety til this is over. He's training a new man, even as we speak, and will never be out of his sight, twenty-four/seven. Ian can be quite the stickel burr when he wants to be, and Patrick and Michael will be closer than you might imagine." ('A Jewell Among The Cobblestones') And while Craig wasn't sure how, or when, or why Private Ames had become 'Family', he knew what that meant, and he knew he could leave it in other hands. He rather though he and the guys would have extra eyes on them as well, them also being 'Family', and he didn't mind that one bit. Those pictures from what Meghada had described, well, they'd made an impact, a big one. She saw his hesitation about telling the guys the full story, saw the dangers inherent in such, and quickly worked to convince him otherwise. 

He reached for the bottle for a third drink, to ease the queasy roil of his stomach. {"No, I'm not going to risk leaving the guys in the dark; they have to know the enormity of this, be on guard at all times for just about anything! God help us all if they pick now to head off on some of their nonsense! I'd never forgive myself if something went wrong!"} She saw, and understood, and got up to make him a sandwich to help absorb the liquor and settle that pitching that she felt more than a little herself.

Meeting Lady Saunders wasn't a problem; the woman was quite the social butterfly, and the social set was more than eager to hear that the elusive Miss O'Donnell was finally taking more of an active roll in the activities available to the smart set and the invitations came flooding in. It was rather gratifying, they thought, after they'd courted her so long, that she was finally responding, willing to mix with them more freely. 

Finding out who was in that merry little band of perverts was a bit more difficult, but doable; it wasn't like Meghada had to get the whole list, at least not right away. For now, it seemed it was three in charge, three others in support positions, and for those she did have names finally. For now, meeting and listening to Lady Saunders was sufficient; listening and practicing til she got the voice down properly, enough for a taped conversation to be recognized clearly and not doubted. Next, getting one of her cousins into position to do the same with two of the conspirators; Veron was most talented in that respect, quite an expert, as evidenced by his 'Amelia' impersonation. ('Not All Battles Are Fought With Bullets'; 'Yes, Sir, That's My Baby')

The hard part, the part she dreaded, was approaching Alisdair Lottley's family, specifically his uncle, Lord Boulder. Lord Boulder had rather more intelligence than many of the elite, and she thought, rather more intestinal fortitude. Word was that he'd been most upset over his nephew's death. But he still had the common prejudices inherent in his class and upbringing, and simply of being an Outlander in his so-called civilized society, and that could cause difficulties in persuading him to help.

{"This might be a mistake, but I think even if it is, he'll not say anything to anyone, not if the family is still putting it about the poor lad died of a premature heart attack."}

Turns out, it wasn't too difficult to get Lord Boulder's support. "I saw his body, Miss O'Donnell. That's why, well, one of the reasons why we asked the medical examiner to call it a heart attack. The marks, the damage, it made it appear quite evident that Alisdair had been engaged in, well, highly dubious activities; activities that would have brought shame and ridicule to his family, his younger brother, his sisters." And she listened, sick at what she was hearing, as he related what he'd seen, what the medical examiner had told him.

"Naturally, I told none of this to his family, and I'm rather appalled that I am telling you this, but I have been urged most fluently and fervently to do so; have it on a rather good authority that you are someone who can be trusted, as well as someone who is more mindful of justice than of legality. And I'll deny ever saying that, just so you know, or of indicating I approved of that sort of thing," giving a totally pathetic attempt at a chuckle. Well, her return smile was just about as pathetic. 

"We intend to stop them, Lord Boulder. The question is, or was, just how much could we divulge; I think now that would be nothing, at least of your nephew's status in all of this. We'll find another way, although there might be a few who ask questions, make hints; after meeting with you, I feel confident you can be depended upon to depress any such impertinences."

He studied her carefully, "yes, you may be sure of that. I'd ask you do everything you can to keep Alisdair's name out of this; I DO understand that that may not be possible, if they are brought up on charges elsewise, but for his family . . ."

"Yes, I understand; we will do all we can. But they cannot be allowed to do to anyone else what they did to your nephew, him and who knows how many others. This was hardly their first playing of their game, I'd think. In my opinion they are escalating - choosing higher, choosing to be more daring, and I truly believe Alisdair's death might have given them a few new ideas. They have to be stopped, and stopped now."

And the man in front of her, nodded, "yes, they must be stopped. Perhaps during their next session, you could arrange for them to be discovered 'in flagrante delicto' by the authorities, after all of them have committed themselves sufficiently?" 

She almost lost sight of her need for his help at that typical elite suggestion, giving close consideration to tossing the remains of her tea cup in his proper upperclass face. She forced herself to nod agreeably, as if giving that idea some consideration.

"And perhaps in order to keep the possibility of disclosure limited to just a small group, we could arrange for their next victim to be another of your family, one of your nieces, perhaps better yet the younger brother? Perhaps it wouldn't be necessary to wait until TOO much damage is done, the lashing, the forceable violation by all of those involved, of course, just to make sure all are implicated, but perhaps nothing permanently disfiguring or fatal, anyway," she asked sweetly, taking a sip of her now lukewarm tea.

The English Lord bristled, furious at the very notion, "now, see here! that's . . ." and flushed to realize that was precisely what he had been suggesting they allow happen to someone else.

She didn't belabor the point; she rather thought the look in her eyes said it all. She had some respect for this man when she came here, had it upped some by his initial sharing and his response; it had just dropped by a notch, or several, and she had no problem with letting that disappointment show just a bit. 

"And another thing, sir, there are friends of your nephew, one in particular, who deserve to know the truth. Suicide is very damaging to those who care deeply for the one who took their own life, if the true reason is not known. It can cause a, a ripple effect, if you will."

Lord Boulder's face was a study in outrage. "I did not approve of my nephew's set, his 'friend' or the relationship; you must know that. I have to wonder if that might not have had some influence on his being chosen for this little game, as you called it; might have been the reason for it, in fact."

Her voice was now a little more crisp than it had been. "My dear Lord Boulder, I know the names of three young men who seem to be next in line for this group to play their little game with. They are not in your nephew's, how did you put it, his 'set'. Two are military, one an officer, one not; the third is ex officio military. Two are warriors who've seen more than their share of active fighting; the other works in the support section, and in a vital area of trust. I know them all, quite well."

{"There, that wasn't a lie, just a misdirection. I don't need this influential man deciding on a hate campaign against any group using his nephew's death as justification!"} 

"I don't know how you feel about it, Lord Boulder, but aside from all else, we are at war. Targeting our fighting men, those who support them for the personal, sadistic amusement of this group? Hardly the thing, I'd say."

And the man's face cleared, {"yes, that's put him on a different track."}

"Then you think Alisdair's being chosen was . . . ".

And she said firmly, "was a matter of chance. They had decided to target someone from the Embassies; he appealed to her in some way, they saw the opportunity, and took it. He had some similarities with the three men I mentioned; all three are young, one about the same age as Alisdair, one younger, the officer only a very few years older, and in appearance younger than he truly is at times. One is quite similar in his rather gawky, boyish appearance, another has the same hair and eyes, the third, the youngest, is quite a different type, but is perhaps a novelty for her."

"Each has a vulnerability; not the SAME vulnerability even among themselves, none the same as your nephew possessed, but ones these ghouls could easily think to utilize for their own benefit. Even the desire to protect others, to serve your country, can be a vulnerability in the wrong hands, can it not? Well, Lord Boulder, we EACH have vulnerabilities, don't we, even the most circumspect of us?" she asked him with a meaningful half-smile. She knew his; she let him know that, or at least suspect that, with the knowing expression on her face. 

"What do you want from me?" he asked. And she told him, and watched as his eyebrows tried to reach his hairline.

"You DO know your way around Society, don't you, Miss O'Donnell? Somehow that surprises me; I had been told you avoided such interaction."

"I know it well enough, Lord Boulder. Avoiding interaction does not mean being incapable of such interaction, or lack of knowledge and ability, you know. I can handle much of the rest, with a little help from my friends, but I've not the influence in the halls of the elite as you and YOUR friends, and I know you have friends in the financial centers as well. Closing the doors of society to them; cutting off access to any who might be inclined to give them aid; having their debts called in, credit denied, access to their accounts suspended due to, perhaps, an audit? That will get their attention, perhaps encourage them to head for greener pastures, away from our own."

"You see, without bringing your nephew into this, which we've agreed we don't want to do, and without putting any of the three on their list in dire danger, which I WILL NOT do, there are certain limitations inherent in living in a supposedly civilized society. We cannot count on them doing the honorable thing if we present them with a loaded revolver, you know. Sometimes ousting them from our midst is the best we can accomplish."

He nodded solemnly in agreement.

She snorted internally, {"yes, well, it's best you THINK that anyway. It's always nice to have a trail showing your sincere civilized intentions, just to divert from your real intentions!"} She was firmly of the opinion that being civilized was a much overrated attribute, and a highly undesirable one in a member of the Clan. SHE had certainly never aspired to such; she rather thought her parents would disown her if she had, and rightly so.

Her invitation to the dinner party arrived right on time, and when it was time to leave, she had all in place. Garrison's men had gone up earlier, as required of the serving staff, and the little devices she'd given them should have, by now, been put in place. They were experts; she didn't doubt their success, and they knew to look out for each other, Craig and Private Ames just in case.

She'd had no trouble convincing Garrison they NEEDED, in fact HAD to know what they were dealing with, just in case something went wrong. He'd been right in judging their reactions, but had them calmed down enough to play their parts well. Heaven help them all if this didn't work, though, because the guys WOULD take matters into their own hands if that happened and she'd be there right there along with them.

Jeffrey had also been briefed, and although a bit pale, had assured her he was well capable of playing the role he needed to play, and making sure he wasn't drawn aside by anyone. They'd waited til afternoon to tell him everything, though, figuring that would have made the past few days much harder to get through without showing their hand; he'd been told just enough to be sure he stuck with Ian, always and at all times, something neither of them found to be a burden at all, calling it between themselves, a 'busman's honeymoon'.

Garrison arrived with the other guests; Private Ames was there as was proper for a military aide when his superior was attending such a function. Kevin Richards hadn't been too happy about the invitation, or the urging by Julie for his escort, and the knowledge that Meghada would be there as well, he just wasn't sure he had the stamina for that right now; it had taken Meghada putting her foot down that caught his attention. 

"Just what's going on? You'd sooner juggle hand grenades as attend this sort of thing."

"Take me on faith, Kevin. You need to be there, and you need to bring Jeffrey, bring Julie. Just, be patient, be yourself. React to anything you hear, you see, just as you would as Major Kevin Richards. Your role tonight is simply to be yourself; won't be the first time you've needed to do that, as I recall," and she smiled at him, though with a tiny frown showing her mind was already elsewhere.

He tried to ignore that sinking feeling he so often got around her, especially when his sister was also present, sighed and agreed to do as she asked. He resolutely turned his mind away from the last time they had expected him to 'simply be yourself'; he still shuddered at what he remembered as 'the honey trap incident.' ('The Honey Trap')

So everyone was in place when the young woman came in the door, wearing a smartly elegant dress of bronze slubbed satin, accented by quite unusual earrings and necklace, bronze metal with bronze-colored gemstones, and at closer look, touches of that same metal and stones encircling her shining coronet of dark red hair.

{"Blimy, looks likes a ruddy queen, she does! No one seeing 'er now would picture 'er digging in the garden like she was this morning, or draped out along that bed like she was this afternoon, all drowsy and soft and pink and damp and . . ."}.

A sharp whisper yanked his attention back to the drink tray he was holding. "Sheesh, man! Stop lookin at her like that or they're gonna toss ya outta here on yer keister. Not only that, these uniforms fit too tight for it; yer gonna stretch those pants outta shape!" And the suppressed snort from the dark young man holding another tray argued the truth to all that.

Goniff let just a slight twitch of his mouth replace the wide grin he felt like giving; he whispered back, "can't 'elp it mates; I mean, just look at 'er!"

And they had to admit, there was a certain regalness to the figure, along with a certain air of 'barbarian princess' that was truly appealing if you weren't much for the simpering empty-headed type; and yes, they were both sure contrasting that with the other pictures their slender pickpocket undoubtedly carried in his mind, well, that was more than enough to have an impact. They both remembered quite well the smile he'd had on his face when he returned from the Cottage mid-afternoon, the totally sated look in his pale blue eyes. 

Craig Garrison wandered up, Julie Richards on his arm, and gave them a polite smile. "Gentlemen, let's keep our minds on the job, shall we," he said in a voice low enough no one else could hear, and the three with the trays scattered to present their drinks and hors d'oeuvres with the proper air of respectful servitude expected. Craig refrained from a snort of his own, thinking of any of those three and the term 'respectful servitude' being considered together.

He sincerely hoped the habit of the society elite for looking through the wait staff and never really seeing them held true, at least til Goniff gained a little more control. There were enough possible complications to this evening without adding anything else to it. The one who had seen, of course, was the young woman who had caused that reaction, and Craig thought he'd seen a glimmer of appreciation in those gold brown eyes before she moved on to greet her host and hostess. Well, in spite of the seriousness of this whole mess, Craig felt more than a bit of appreciation at the sight of BOTH of them, and shifted slightly to get more comfortable. He remembered the afternoon just as well as Goniff had.

It was a typical society dinner, full of fine foods and fine wines, with soft music in the background. When the plates were cleared for the dessert course, there was a lull in the music, and the company was startled to hear the voices coming through loud and clear. Most there were well acquainted with those voices, clearly those of Lady Saunders, Mitchell Daviner and Louis Caldrone; what made it surprising, of course, was that the voices were coming not from those three, who were all seated at the table, but seemingly from the air.

What was not so much surprising as it was shocking? The conversation that was taking place. Certain sentences stood out among the others, of course. First a wicked chuckle from the lady, then "there's simply nothing like it, Mitchell. I declare it is quite addicting. Having him inside me, watching his eyes, his face, when he realized you are in the room, behind him, what you intend; his struggles as I hold him in place while you and Louis take him; his cries of shock and dismay and pain. How delicious it was when the others joined in. I dream of that sometimes, and can hardly sleep for thinking of the next time we play the game."

Of course, the words from Louis Caldrone, the tall dark-haired military attache held their attention equally well, "the last one was a virgin, I believe, in all respects. We can't count on that happening all the time, not all around, I mean, but it is especially delightful when it does. The new ones we're looking at, well, they may have sown a few wild oats with the ladies, but for the rest, I daresay it will be an eye-opener for them, my dear. I am sure you will find their reactions all you could hope for! Although, for my part, I'm quite ready to switch back to the sweet young things for a bit; there's just something about all of us taking our turns, deflowering one of the little misses not quite out of the schoolroom, you know," followed by a most genteel laugh.

Mitchell Daviner was not left out, as he followed with, "well, we've experienced the gentry, and the social set, and the halls of government, so to speak. I do like your idea of alternating the military and the aristocracy next. Onwards and upwards, as they say; there's no telling just HOW high we can reach," to the answering laughs from the other two.

Of course, this was all heard in contrast to the voices coming from the three sitting at the table, and the frenzied questions, "where is that coming from?" "Find that, stop it!". 

The shocked and outraged voice of the young redhead seated at the table cut through quite clearly, "somehow, this is not what I expected when I accepted this invitation; obviously entertainments here are a bit different than what I am accustomed to." And she rose, nodded her head most graciously to her host and hostess, sitting there with horrified expressions at what had transpired at their dinner table, "I am sure you will excuse me, I just really can't . . .", all with a vague and distressed motion of her hand, and turned to leave the room.

And from Julie Richards, a hesitant, "Kevin, I believe I am getting a headache; might we please leave?" though Major Richards offered Private Ames as her escort instead, stating he really thought he needed to stay and perhaps discuss the evening's 'entertainment', with their hosts and those whose voices had been heard, and the young Private came forward quickly to offer his arm and they too departed.

Garrison and another guest, a tall dark foreign gentleman traveling incognito as 'Count Marcelli', exchanged glances, "Major, we'd be happy to wait and take you back in our car when you are ready to leave." And rapidly the other guests followed suit in leaving, barely pausing to take their leave, until the only ones remaining were Lord and Lady Almeir, the most unfortunate host and hostess whose dinner party would now be the talk of London tomorrow, though hardly for the reasons they might have hoped, Major Kevin Richards, who was wearing a most unpleasantly official look on his face, the three whose voice had been heard and whose own departure he'd blocked, (along with their 'servants'), Garrison and Actor, and the wait staff who seemingly had been forgotten in the turmoil. 

"I have no authority to take any action here tonight; I WILL be laying this before the proper authorities as soon as I leave here, of course."

And from Lord Almeir, "Major, please. Can't you, well, we don't want them here, of course."

And the indignant and angry responses from the three involved came fast and furious, only to be totally ignored.

"Well, I suppose I could ask these men to assist me in seeing them out," motioning to the guys who were standing in the shadows, still in their wait staff uniforms, still with totally bland expressions on their faces.

"Certainly, sir, we would be happy to be of service," Casino intoned in just the right tone of voice, rather as if they were being asked to bring someone their hat. And so it was that the three leaders of the game were escorted to their cars, along with their 'servants' who had accompanied them. The cars took off at a screech.

"Lord Almeir, might I suggest you take Lady Almeir into the parlor and ring for some tea, or perhaps a cordial; she seems quite overcome, and understandably so," came as a kind and sincere suggestion from Actor. "We will let ourselves out, will not impose on you any further at this most difficult time."

By the time that was arranged, the tapes and equipment had been gathered and quickly concealed under jackets and the others departed. Major Richards had suggested the hired wait staff leave immediately, sternly warning them not to say a word of this to anyone, much to the Almeir's relief. The Almeir's own staff would find themselves with quite a mess come morning, but that couldn't be avoided. And of course, there was nothing that could have stopped the other guests from talking, nothing in this world.

Come the morning, the word had passed through the elite like grass. . ., well, rather quickly, arriving with the morning chocolate and tea and newsheets. Lady Saunders, Caldrone and Daviner would find themselves on the blackest of black lists. They had, after all, committed the deadliest of social sins - aside from anything else they had done or might have done, they had caused dire embarrassment to their hosts!

They were shocked at their quick ouster, the number of phone calls ending in dial tones only, the messages returned unopened. They were perhaps even more shocked at the debt collectors on their doorstep, representatives from their banks in lockstep, presenting them with 'immediately due' notices, along with notices that their accounts had been frozen due to 'internal bank audits'. At least, those were on their doorstep until the owners of the properties they leased sent their delegation with an eviction notice, effective immediately, accompanied by those who had the brawn to enforce such orders. 

They gathered what they could, whatever valuables they had, paid for or not, and departed in a three car convoy. No one was sure where they were headed; they hadn't bothered to tell anyone, and that dreadful accident just outside Basingstoke left no one to tell afterwards. Luckily no others were hurt in the accident, but all six in the three cars, well . . .

When the news reached London, there was much talk, of course, but soon a new scandal, a new occurrence of interest took its place. And of course, such a distasteful business was best left behind as quickly as possible.

The social set did regret, however, that that most eventful evening had seemingly made the elusive Miss O'Donnell more skittish of social events than before. Julie Richards explained to a close friend, "well, Madge, as she said, that evening was just not what she was accustomed to, and I must say, I could hardly argue the point with her, could I? I was most appalled myself! Although I would still love to find out the name of her modiste, and most assuredly who designs her jewelry for her," all with the most innocent of faces.

In a small residence in the south of London, Meghada O'Donnell sat holding a cup of tea, talking quietly with the bleak-eyed young man facing her.

"And I thought you needed to know, Darren; he was important to you, as you were to him. You should know the why of it, not be left guessing, making assumptions perhaps far from the truth. I don't suppose he felt he had any choice, and while that may have been true or not, I'm doubtful he was thinking clearly at all. He had to have been still in shock, in horror of what had transpired, the threats that would have been made. He would also have been in considerable pain and perhaps taking something to ease it, and that might have affected his judgement as well."

She reached down into her handbag, "he left this for you. His uncle let himself be persuaded to give it to me." She handed over a sealed envelope.

The young man looked at her, eyes red but without tears, "you didn't read it."

She smiled at him, with concern, "no, of course not. It is addressed to you."

He held the envelope, opened it, read the letter enclosed, and now was blinking away the tears. "It wasn't like we were soul mates or anything like that. We'd been friends for years, and sometimes more." He gave her a quick twitch of the lips, meant for a smile, "recently, much more. We trusted each other, you know; could be honest with each other. I'll miss him," and she nodded in agreement, knowing he would. "Those who did this, you're sure . . ."

"Most sure, Darren. Trust ME on that. I am most sure," and looking into those gold brown eyes, he knew he could. And perhaps, tonight, he might even be able to sleep. She knew she could, would have no trouble whatsoever.


	3. The Domino Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meghada wasn't a particularly sociable type; everyone knew that. Why had her kitchen table now started seeing more traffic than a railway station? Still, Julie had come seeking, if not advice, at least an understanding ear, and Meghada owed her that much at least. Little did she know that this would be a classic example of the domino effect, nor that by the end of it all, she never wanted to see another little black tile for the rest of her life!

Julie was fuming inside, that was easy enough to see. "Meghada, don't you have another sister or cousin or someone we can sic my idiot brother on??! I know it couldn't be Ciena because she works for him and that would be far too awkward, and of course Coura is far too young, but SOMEBODY? Kevin is driving me mad! Now that he's figured out you and Caeide won't listen to him, he's switched over to trying to manage MY life! He used to let me go my own way, at least somewhat, taking me about when I bullied him into it, but for the most part just not paying all that much attention. Oh, he'd fret, but not really interfere. Now, all of a sudden, its 'where did I go Friday night? He'd called at 10 o'clock, but there was no answer.' 'What was I doing with the Fairchild bunch at the Officers Club? Don't I know Louise Fairchild and her brother are trouble just waiting to happen?' 'Isn't that dress a little short?' 'Did you forget to button that top button?' 'That perfume is just a little too strong, it gives the wrong impression entirely.' I keep expecting him to bring out a teething ring!" 

Meghada tried to suppress that grin, but it was just impossible. After so many years of having Kevin Richards hounding either Caeide and then herself about their 'bad choices', and for awhile there pulling Julie in to help in his endeavor to get them to 'choose someone else', someone he actually approved of, it just WAS amusing to see all that attention focused on perhaps the only person he would have been somewhat justified in trying to stifle. Not that Meghada would have tolerated that from her own brothers, of course, and didn't see any reason Julie needed to either. But still, it was rather a relief to have his attention focused elsewhere for a change.

She brought her attention back to the pretty young woman sitting across from her at the table. Julie was still going on and on. "I could give you a list of all the men he's warned me away from, and every time I see him, he has more to add to the list!" Meghada refrained from snorting, thinking of Craig Garrison and that always-to-be-added-to list of 'Do NOT'S' he had for the guys. "Yes, well, I can see Dillan Ferrell being on his list; his bad reputation was certainly honestly earned from what I can see. And I admit Kevin was right about Allen Cole, and I'm truly appreciative to you and Ciena and Michael for helping me get him off my back." ('Music Nights At The Pub') But really, some of the men he's getting all upset about, I just don't understand! I mean, I went to the Club dance with Lionel Kingston and I thought Kevin was going to have a heart attack! I mean, really! Can you see Major Kingston being any danger to me?" She noticed Meghada wasn't answering and had a very peculiar look on her face. "Meghada? Major Kingston??! Oh, please! He's harmless, surely!" 

"Well, I don't put him in the same class as Dillan Ferrell. And he's not another Allen Cole, though there are some similarities there, certainly in the ego department, though he's not a total hound like Cole. He's not into the nasty stuff like Lord Sinclair and his friends, or Mitchell Davener and Louis Caldrone. ('Bottacelli'; 'Sometimes I Hear Things') He's not a total arrogant vindictive lech like Major Danvers, well, at least I don't THINK he is. (Chapter 1, this story) But, I have to say, I don't think that's a connection I'd encourage either," she said reluctantly. After so long of having other people minding her business, she knew just how annoying it was to be on the receiving end of 'just a word of good advice, my dear!'

Julie frowned at her, knowing just what was going through the redhead's mind. "No, don't clam up. Kevin's advice I can do without, since he seems to think anything in pants is wanting to get into mine, pardon the expression, which simply isn't the case. But, your take on things? That I WOULD be interested in hearing. After all, that's why I drove two hours to get here. So, Major Kingston - what gets your back up about HIM?"

Meghada sipped her coffee, then sighed, got up and fetched the bourbon bottle and two shot glasses. Julie raised her eyebrows at that; seemingly there must be more to Major Kingston than was visible at first glance, or even at first date. "I admit I'm not unbiased where Lionel Kingston is concerned. In my opinion, Julie, he has a mean streak. It comes out in perhaps little ways, nothing so openly blatant as to warn you off at first glance, but I've had more than enough interaction with the man to see that. ('Doctor's Orders'; 'Wampyre!'; 'Point of View'). He's a bully at heart, and uses his rank, his position to get by with it. He LIKES having the upper hand, enjoys it wielding entirely too much. I wouldn't like to think about anyone I care about being under his control." 

Julie got a knowing look on her face, "the guys. Well, you know, Meghada, you aren't exactly impartial when Garrison and the guys are concerned. Could you be letting that influence your judgment? They DO get up to some things any regular military officer might be a little offended by."

Meghada tilted her head, thinking, "yes, of course; they've certainly had their run-ins with the man, and I am certainly prejudiced in their favor. But it's not just the guys, not just that. I've heard too much up at HQ, seen too much, personally. Yes, and I know just how the gossip chain works and how unreliable it can be. Sweet Mother, I know my name has made the rounds any number of times and with some of the oddest stories! But a lot of what I've heard about Kingston? It's based on personal experience from those I really do trust and respect. It's his minding everyone else's business, usually with the intention of getting a little payback for some perceived slight or misdemeanor. It's that little bit of pressure he gives the lower ranks to get his stuff done first, no matter what order they received it in or how it puts them in the way of reprimands elsewhere. It's the getting a little too close to the female staff when they've clearly shown they are uncomfortable with him, trying for a little physical intimidation. It's the little innuendos that hint of repercussions if he doesn't get his way, whatever it is he's wanting at the time. It's that inclination to indulge in a little Schadenfreunde whenever the opportunity presents itself."

When Julie just looked puzzled, Meghada explained that word by reciting the old story of the two neighbors. "So one neighbor finds a magic lamp and when he rubs it a Genie appears and gives him one wish. Yes, I know, it's supposed to be three," and she grinned at Julie, "but there's a war on, shortages everywhere," and Julie laughed.

"Anyway, the man, a farmer, thought about how much easier his life would be if he just had an ox so he and his wife didn't have to pull that plow themselves, so he wishes for one, and a fine big ox appears. He is overjoyed and explains what happened and how he got it when his neighbor questions him. The neighbor acts pleased for their family, but goes home in a sulk. He complains enough that the Genie comes and says, "look, if it's going to be a source of contention, I can let you have a wish too; just think, you could have your OWN ox." The neighbor, thinking of all the possibilities of that one wish, told the Genie, "For my one wish, I want you to cause my neighbor's new ox to sicken and die, aye, and his family too!" The Genie, rather taken aback, offers, "but wouldn't you rather wish for an ox of your own? Then you would both have one and be able to work your lands with more ease." But the neighbor was insistent, that he wanted his neighbor to suffer instead. That is Schadenfreude, taking more pleasure in bringing harm to your neighbor than in obtaining good for yourself. Luckily, in the version I was taught, the Genie, being one of the rare compassionate ones, takes back his offer of a wish, and even warns the other neighbor about that one's ill-wishing, along with giving the mean neighbor a hearty case of boils." She sighed again, took a sip of her drink.

"Julie, you are very attractive, you know that, very personable, and that's certainly enough to attract any man. You are also from a military family, a socially prominent family, and that counts a great deal too, at least to a certain type of man with certain ambitions. Julie, in my opinion, Major Kingston is looking for someone to be a 'proper officer's wife'. I've seen him sniffing and nosing around the possibilities, checking the likely prospects."

Julie snorted at the mental image that presented, and Meghada grinned, "yes, exactly like that! I guess in some ways he DOES resemble a hound! But seriously, you've seen what that role - 'proper officer's wife' - entails, both the good and the bad. Can you see yourself taking on that role, honestly?"

Julie looked thoughtful, then ruefully grinned and shook her head. "No, I get enough of that by just being an officer's sister, and my family's only daughter! All the rules, all the regulations, having everybody watch for the slightest impropriety. It hasn't been as rough, not in that way, with the war going on since people have other things on their minds, and a little relaxation of the rules is more accepted. But I remember what it was before, and that will change right back again when the war's over, I imagine. And no, I wouldn't do well with that at all! But that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun, let him take me places, does it?"

Meghada frowned, then shrugged, "I don't want to sound like a Victorian novel and warn about being caught in a 'compromising position', but to be honest, I wouldn't put much past the little toad. He's sneaky, and while he's competent enough in what he's asked to do, at least in his own job, frankly, his intelligence is quite a bit less than he imagines it to be; his ego gets in the way. You know, and I know, that Kevin would never force you into an alliance you truly don't want, certainly not just to avoid scandal. He might yell and scream and threaten to lock you in the family home til you're ninety, but he wouldn't force an unwanted marriage on you. I DON'T know that Kingston understands that. I can see him doing exactly that if the positions were reversed, forcing his own sister into an unwanted marriage just to preserve his own reputation, and might judge Kevin ready to do the same. And while he wouldn't be successful at that, well, his efforts in that regard could be highly unpleasant for you." 

Julie's eyes had gotten larger and larger as the conversation had gone on. "Alright, that doesn't sound good. What do you suggest? I run into him rather often now, though I don't remember having done so before. And Kevin's run off any number of the men I used to go places with. Am I to just sit at home and hide under the covers?," she asked with the slightest hint of a pout. Julie was very much the social butterfly, enjoyed the hustle and bustle intensely.

Meghada grinned, then laughed, "no, I can't see that happening; you'd probably go stark raving mad. But for just a bit, how about we come up with some other men, at least one, maybe two to squire you around, maybe give Major Kingston a hint that you're not there for his plucking?"

Julie choked on her drink, "Plucking??! Like a chicken??"

Meghada laughed out loud, "no, Julie, like a ripe plum. That's probably how he sees you, a ripe plum just waiting to drop into his hand whenever he stretches it out for you. Maybe we could teach him that just isn't so, hmm?"

Julie looked at her slightly askance, "and just who did you have in mind? No offence, but I don't think any of your East End friends would quite fit the bill. There IS Kevin to keep in mind, remember."

Meghada laughed again, "you'd be far better off with a few of my East End friends than some of those wandering around HQ, my dear, but no. I was thinking perhaps of my brother Michael; he's attractive enough, if you like the sort and can put up with his ways," grinning at Julie who returned the favor, shaking her head in amusement at that less than enthusiastic recommendation.

"Oh, he's more than attractive enough, certainly. YOU'RE just blinded by your obsession with your 'blond laddie' not to fully appreciate that!"

Meghada shrugged in acknowledgment, but came back with, "well, and by the fact that he's my older brother, and has had my entire lifetime to annoy me just as much as Kevin has had the opportunity to annoy you! Still, you're not his sister, and I think you two will do quite nicely together for a few outings. He likes music, dances well, can converse intelligently if you prod him into it. He can out-snob even Actor should the occasion arise, and he is more than capable of depressing anyone's pretensions should they try to get above the line. And frankly? Kingston is very wary of me, has had occasion to learn he can't run roughshod over my brother Patrick either. I think he will hesitate before trying it with Michael as well, once he learns who he is. And perhaps best of all, I don't think Kevin will yell at you for going about with Michael."

**

Now, it was three months later and they were back at the kitchen table, and Meghada was wondering just why she let herself get involved in Julie's affairs. Well, yes, she owed her, on several counts. And, she was Kevin's sister. And, oh, okay! She actually LIKED Julie, when Julie dropped the ditzy dingbat act. She even kinda liked her when Julie was BEING that ditzy dingbat, as long as she didn't have to put up with it for too long. She just never intended this to become a 'bosom buddy' kind of a thing, with Julie making a place at her table on a regular basis. Right now, Julie was really pushing it, this being like the fourth visit since that first one, though Meghada had to ruefully admit she had no one to blame but herself.

Now, it was, "and now, Michael has started in! It's almost like having TWO big brothers! It was fine when we were going places together quite a bit, and that DID seem to discourage Major Kingston enough he doesn't bother me any more, along with some of the others Kevin was being so pissy about. And yes, I enjoy Michael's company and we did well together, and Kevin seemed fine with him taking me out. And I'd really not mind going out with him even more, but you know he's not always available, or he's worked double-shifts and is really too tired, and I understand that, really I do. But now, if I go out with someone else, the next day the phone rings and I get it from BOTH of them! 'Who, why, where, what went on, are you intending to see him again! Did anything happen I need to know about? Do you need me to tell him where to head in?' From Kevin, I'm even starting to get, 'why did you go out with HIM? Where was Michael? You two need to coordinate your schedules better.' Meghada, I was going OUT with Michael, I didn't MARRY him!!" 

Meghada snickered, catching a dirty look from the other woman. "Sorry. And Michael?"

"Oh, from him I get, 'I didn't know you were wanting to go to that party, or that dance, or whatever; you should have told me.' Or, 'you knew I was on duty that night. Couldn't Kevin have taken you?' If it's something in the future and he can't get away, he suggests, strongly suggests that I just decline the invitation, 'tell them you have a prior committment; I'll take you somewhere my first free night to make it up to you.'"

"The other night, Kevin shows up at my doorstep in his dress uniform because Michael called him, HIM, not ME, to say he didn't think I should go to the Masterson's dinner dance alone, and since Michael had to work, maybe Kevin could escort me! I didn't ask Michael to escort me in the first place! I knew he'd be working. I don't even remember TELLING Michael I was GOING to the dinner dance! I know I didn't tell Kevin! Michael is even starting the, 'better button that top button', 'Isn't that dress a little short', all that sort of thing! Meghada, between the two of them, I think I'm developing, well, maybe not claustrophobia, but SOMETHING! It's like I'm sixteen again, and I haven't been that for more than ten years!"

Meghada swallowed deeply. While she found this terribly amusing on more than one level, she did empathise. She and Michael had had their share of knock-down drag-out discussions about what she could or couldn't do. He'd get on his high-horse and start lecturing, she'd lose her temper and either start yelling or start swinging, and sometimes it would be weeks before they were back to talking to each other again. Of course, she had broken him of that, for the most part anyway, by the time she was fourteen, and he still had the scars to prove it.

"So, what do you want, Julie? Do you want not to date Michael any more? Are you wanting to date him just every now and again? Do you want to put him on the list of 'casual escort when I can't find anyone else?' Just what are you looking for here? If you're wanting me to tell you how to keep him from being dictatorial, either him or Kevin, you've come to the wrong place. I've never been able to manage that myself, though that doesn't mean I give in to them, of course. I think it's in their blood, you know, along with the being perhaps overly-protective. Maybe you need to figure out just how much of either of those things you can handle, how much of his company you WANT and why, and sit down and have a good long talk with him. You won't change him, but maybe you can come up with some guidelines on what won't drive him nuts and won't drive you nuts either. And if you can't come to some reasonable agreement, you can perhaps just let him know you each need to go your own way."

Meghada had thought that was a relatively sensible speech, coming from her, anyway. She totally was unprepared for the stricken look that came over Julie's face, right before her visitor burst into loud sobs and buried her head in her arms on the kitchen table.

Goniff had the misfortune to elect that time to come bouncing in through the kitchen door, took one utterly appalled look at the scene, and scurried away before he could somehow become entangled in all that. A Mother Hen he might be, but getting caught up with a hysterical Julie Richards was more than he was willing to take on!

Now, amidst the sobs, she heard a mournful wail, "Meghada, he's never even kissed me!! Well, a peck on the cheek, or just a touch to my forehead, but never a REAL kiss! I don't know what I'm doing wrong!"

A proffered handkerchief later, another sip or two from that shot-glass, and the red-eyed young woman had calmed down somewhat, but was now engaged in pouring out her heart. Meghada now envied Goniff for his fast escape.

"So, you WANT him to kiss you? Have you let him know that?" Meghada asked, really preferring to not be having this conversation about her brother, but not feeling she could just kick Julie out the door either.

"Well, of course! He just keeps ignoring every signal I give him! Oh, Meghada, I want what YOU have!"

Meghada thought over that little tid-bit for a moment. "That covers a large territory, Julie. In what way?"

Julie looked at her like she was being dense, and Meghada had to admit maybe she was. Still, this was an odd enough conversation without making any assumptions; Julie's mind did occasionally take an unexpected turn.

"Meghada, I'm greedy, I want it all! I want the easy companionship, I want the fun and laughter, I want the affection, I want the PASSION! I've seen all that, how it is between you two. I saw how easy it came for you and Goniff! Why can't I have that??!"

Meghada had been in the middle of taking a drink, and sputtered around that potent mouthful. {"How EASY it came??! Sweet Mother!"} thinking of all the delays and misunderstandings and interference and angst involved before she and Goniff had finally come to their 'easy' understanding, never MIND everything that had been involved with Craig - not that Julie would know about that, at least hopefully not.

Julie looked down at her glass, swallowed deeply and took another sip. "Meghada, does he maybe, well, I mean - I know Patrick and James are together. And I know Ian and Jeffrey Ames share more than a nodding acquaintance. Does Michael, I mean, am I just not likely to appeal to him?"

Meghada just stared, not sure why Julie was asking HER that question. "I don't know, Julie. We've never discussed it."

"You've never asked, you've never seen anything to tell you?" Julie seemed puzzled at that.

Meghada just had to grin, "and when was the last time you sat down with Kevin and asked him about HIS sexual preferences?" taking some satisfaction in seeing Julie now being the one to choke on her drink.

"Meghada! I mean, I couldn't! And really, Kevin, I can't even think about Kevin, I mean, imagine him with EITHER! I think my mind might explode!"

They shared a companionable sisterly laugh, but Meghada brought the subject back around.

"Well, Kevin is quite attractive too, and I hardly think he's made it thus far living a cloistered life, though it never occurred to me to give his preferences any thought either. But, yes, with us, it's perhaps different than with what you're used to, Julie. For us, the Clan, it's WHO you find attractive, WHO you come to care for, to love. The gender of that person is more of a, well, an interesting technicality, you might say, than anything else. As my mother once explained it, in fact I think it was TO Kevin, actually, when he was on one of his rants, that is something relevant only to the parties involved and then only on a mechanical, perhaps logistical basis, so to speak. And Patrick and James? My cousin Reagana, she is an equal partner with them, though I don't think you've met her yet. So there are various possibilities. So, would Michael automatically put you on the 'no' list because you're a woman? I can't imagine that, at least not for the reason you were thinking. And, nothing that happened between my laddie and me would be of any help to you - our experiences were rather unique. I think perhaps I need to send you to my mother, possibly Sheila Riley, AJ's wife. They are more likely to be able to give you some insights, perhaps some good advice where I just can't."

It was with more than a little relief that Meghada saw Julie to her car. She went back inside and finally gave herself permission for another, much larger drink, and gave herself a hearty pat on the back for maintaining at least some of her composure. She snorted with dire amusement, imagining Kevin Richards' face if Julie ever HAD broached that rather delicate subject with him. And though she hadn't mentioned it to Julie, the signals both of her younger sisters were sending off would seem to indicate that at least THEY thought Kevin preferred females. As for herself, she STILL was inclined to not speculate on what really wasn't any of her concern.

Later, when Goniff hesitantly stuck his head back in the door and asked, cautiously, "is she gone? And what the ruddy 'ell was that all about??!" she was able to grin and tell him, "yes, she's gone; it's safe to come in now," though she declined to tell him any more. Though she really was curious to see his expression if she'd told him about that 'how EASY it came' statement! She had a feeling he'd just roar!

***

Alright, she'd had just about enough! For someone who didn't encourage visitors, that kitchen table of hers was really getting a workout! Now it was Michael, complaining up a storm about Julie, how irresponsible she was being, how foolish, how she was just courting trouble.

"I called Thursday night at 10:30, no answer. When I finally track her down, and that wasn't til Monday! she tells me she went on 'just a little weekend jaunt down to the country with a few others.' Gets all snippy when I try to find out who and where! I ask her to the Alverstoke's party for the following week to try and distract her from all the foolishness she's getting up to, she's got other plans! Again, 'not really your place to be interrogating me, Michael!', when all I did was ask who she was going with, was it someone she'd known for a goodly amount of time or someone new, who'd introduced them!' Really, Meghada! All I'm trying to do is . . ." and he ran an exasperated hand through that dark hair, mussing it in a manner quite unlike her meticulous older brother.

"Yes, Michael? What is it, exactly, that you are trying to do? Are you trying to date Julie or babysit her? It's rather hard to tell from here." That earned her a sincere glare.

"Well, Kevin has enough on his mind; things are really heating up at HQ and he can't keep a proper eye on her. SOMEONE'S got to take up the slack!" 

"You didn't feel that way when Kevin was trying to 'protect' me, or Caeide either," she reminded him.

He snorted indignantly, "well, of course not! But Julie isn't you, or Caeide! Julie is, well, she NEEDS protecting! She's far too attractive for her own good, too good-hearted, too naive. The men who keep hanging around her, well, who knows what their intentions are? Why, anything could happen!"

Meghada just stared at her older brother. To her certain knowledge, Julie had been on the social scene since she was eighteen, managing quite well in fact, and she knew Julie was only a couple of months younger than Michael.

"Michael, you DO know she's not sixteen, right?? I agree there are occasions when having a friend lending a hand has been helpful for her, like with that Cole idiot, and an occasional word about the more devious of the predators would be appropriate, but she hardly needs someone to wrap her in cotton wool!"

Her brother glared at her, "you just don't understand!" He turned thoughtful again, "I wonder if I could get Patrick or James to help me, maybe provide escort service when I'm busy. They wouldn't be up to any nonsense, I know that! And Kevin would agree to that, I'm sure." 

Now Meghada was starting to see some light in the midst of all that swirling angst. "KEVIN would agree to that? Do you and Kevin have some kind of an arrangement, Michael? I know I didn't ask you to be a permanent watchdog, just lend a hand with a brief escorting to get Major Kingston to back off. I think that escorting has continued quite a bit longer than that particular goal called for, yes? Are you concerned because of Julie? Or because of Kevin?" She knew she had him when he flushed deeply and looked away.

"Michael??! Are you interested in Julie, as a woman? As maybe just a friend who's looking out for a friend? Or because you and Kevin have cooked up this little scheme to keep her in swaddling clothes??" She was liking this less and less. She wasn't really prepared for his even deeper flush, and his slightly embarrassed eyes.

"Michael??!"

He snapped at her, "oh, alright, so I'm not really sure, okay?? Yes, I talked about it with Kevin right at the beginning, and we agreed it's a good idea for me to hang around. He was thrilled at the idea even. But, Meghada, he made such a big deal of it, about how he knows he can trust me, that he knows she's in safe hands, that he knew he wouldn't have anything to worry about with it being me. Damn it all, he even said it would be just like HIM taking her places! Even if I, well, even if I thought she . . . I can't take advantage of the position I'm in, not with Kevin depending on me to act as his surrogate!" 

Meghada had an almost uncontrollable urge to pound her head on the kitchen table. There Julie was, beside herself waiting, desperately WANTING Michael to make a move; there Michael was, beside himself, desperately wanting to MAKE a move - both of them endlessly frustrated by one Major Kevin Richards and his, once again, deciding what was best. {"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me one little bit!"} she thought with some grim amusement.

"And how does Julie see all this?"

He looked at her, appalled, "I can't discuss this with Julie!"

Meghada just rolled her eyes, "oh, of course not, not like it's any of her concern, not like she might have an opinion on the matter, not at all!" She remembered all too well when she and Goniff went through that 'I can't talk to HER about this!' stage, when he thought it was just fine to listen to a drunk soldier at the next table instead! ('Father Knows Best'), or when he decided to listen to that enterprising pair from New York rather than sitting down and have a sensible discussion with her ('My Funny Valentine'). She'd managed to keep from dropping him off the balcony with that last one, but that didn't mean she hadn't yelled at him plenty, in both cases.

She was sincerely tempted to say something, but realized this whole mess was like a line of dominos; every time she opened her kitchen door, OR her mouth, it just brought a new visitor with a new chapter; she hesitated, but with a groan realized once again that she owed Michael as well as her father since they had done the same for her. 

"Michael, there's no easy way to say this," and he looked at her apprehensively. Who knows what he thought she was going to say, but certainly something different than he'd heard from her so many times through the years.

"Michael, brother mine, I love you, really I do, but you are a total idiot!"

{"No, not something different, that sounded just like Meghada"}. He sat there, quietly, looking at her, hesitating to ask, but finally, "okay, I can accept that. How?" and a slow grin came to both their faces at an exchange that was really too familiar.

"You are never going to know how she really sees you if you don't make the effort. If you keep treating her like you're Kevin, she's most likely going to keep REACTING like you're Kevin, and you can't want that! She makes an effort to look nice, you grump about how low her blouse is buttoned, or how short her skirt is - what's wrong with telling her she looks really nice? Or how you like that color on her? Or how proud you feel when you walk into a room with her? Or you never realized just how pretty her eyes were before, or her smile, or whatever really does please you."

"She tells you she's going to a dance or a party, instead of the third-degree, maybe you admit you wish you were the one taking her, how much you like dancing with her, talking with her, whatever! Tell her how much you hate the idea of her being on someone else's arm, but without being a dog in the manger. Admit she means something to you, be ready to elaborate if it looks like she might, even just MIGHT, be willing to hear you out. And KISS her, you idiot! YOU are NOT her brother! Remind yourself of that, remind HER of that, and get out of your own way!"

Michael sat there, intense frown on his admittedly-handsome face, thinking. "But what about Kevin?"

"Let Kevin learn to deal. Julie is a grown woman. And Michael, as annoying as I find you at times, big brother, I can't imagine anyone who'd treat Julie better than you. Well, as long as she's strong enough to tell you where to head in should it become necessary, and I imagine it will at times! I think, I hope Kevin is smart enough to see that as well. Brother, you are an O'Donnell! You are worth any Outlander, hands down. Stop acting like an idiot before you make her shut you out just out of general annoyance!"

After he left, Meghada sat at the table, ruefully noting the level in the bourbon bottle. She hadn't made a supply trip in some time, and the two drinks she'd poured for Michael and herself had finished the very last of the good stuff. She just hoped she had no more visitors for awhile.

**

A week later, Howie showed up at her kitchen door with a wooden case. "Delivery, Miss. Just came in."

She greeted him with a smile, for she was fond of the man, but had to say, "I wasn't expecting anything, Howie. Are you sure it was for me?"

"Oh, aye. Your name and everything on the label. Says you're to open it right away, too, so didn't want to just leave it at the door."

She thanked him, dropped a few coins in his hand, and dragged it in. She eyed it cautiously from every side; she'd had at least one unpleasant delivery in the past, thanks to taking a hand in the affairs of one of London's toffs. So, okay, she stuck her nose in where it wasn't wanted, at least by one gentleman, but the young couple he was trying to interfere with had been most appreciative. Still, she never had gotten over the sight of that THING slithering over the edge onto her kitchen floor! Good thing she'd had her meat cleaver close to hand; still, she'd had bad dreams for some time and had been more than a little uneasy over packages ever since.

She read the label and relaxed, though still not knowing why Michael would be sending her a package. A hearty laugh came to her when she pried open the lid and beheld the contents: three very well wrapped bottles of high-quality bourbon, one large box of salted nuts, one extremely risque piece of nightwear that had her eyebrows at their highest, and two notes. 

"Dear sister. Julie and I thought you might like this little token of our appreciation. I finally got out of my own way!" Michael. "PS. The nightwear was NOT my idea. I don't even want to THINK about you wearing something like this, so do NOT offer to model it for me! Though I must admit Julie looks absolutely stunning in hers, though hers is midnight blue." "PPS. Don't say anything to anyone, even the family. We are keeping this all very hush-hush for now."

"Dear Meghada. Thank you, thank you, thank you! He told me everything, and while I firmly intend to give my darling brother a piece of my mind, well, Michael and I came to an understanding right quickly. As for the package, the bourbon was his idea, we both thought you would like the salted nuts since you wouldn't appreciate chocolates and probably wouldn't get any of them even if we sent them, not if Goniff caught sight of them first, but the nightgown was my idea. He was appalled, at first, but after I modeled MINE, he agreed you MIGHT like the one in black. I assured him you would, and you probably wouldn't be the only one to find it rather appealing! Thank you again!" Julie. "PS. Not a word, please, not to anyone. We're hoping to make it til after the war before we make any announcement; well, unless circumstances make it impossible to wait, of course. Blush, blush!"

She was still laughing over the notes, holding up that rather remarkable piece of lingerie, when the phone rang. She picked it up, still chuckling, to hear an exceedingly crisp voice, "Meghada, I think you and I have something to discuss!" She was still laughing as she gently put the receiver back on the cradle.

"Not today, Kevin, not today!" She waltzed to the mirror, holding up that combination of translucent black striated silk and black satin ribbon, imagining the look on Goniff's face when he saw her in it, wondering just how long she'd still be wearing it after he did, and the resulting grin filled her face.

Still, she thought she'd learned her lesson, and when Chief brought out that box of dominoes her next trip up to the Mansion, she hastily declined. "Maybe cards, or chess, Chief. I've decided dominoes just don't have the appeal they once did. Far too complicated, you know?"


End file.
